“Well, where have you been? You smell smoky,” she added. “You’ve been out at some wild party, haven’t you?”
“I was playing my flute in a band at a temple function,” Grange slightly sanitized the description of his event.
“I was going to sing with you again tonight. I’ve been waiting up, and we’ve got to get up early again tomorrow to do the chores. Come in here and play two quick songs, then we’ll call it a night,” she turned and walked back into her room, letting Grange take a speculative peak at her figure again as he followed her into her own chambers.
Her room appeared to be smaller than his, but a full wall divided it into two separate rooms, and they stopped in the first space, a place with chairs and tables. Grace pulled a wrapper around her shoulders and draped it over her chest, then sat down in one low chair and pointed to another for Grange to sit in.
“Did your ‘band’ play temple music?” Grace began to interrogate Grange.
He was tired, and he decided he was just going to get past whatever battle Grace was prepared to initiate. The sooner it was finished, the sooner he could sleep, he concluded.
“We played at a festival in front of Acton’s temple,” Grange admitted. “It was mostly dance music.”
“I went to that festival when I was young,” Grace replied, in a relaxed tone of voice. “That’s a popular festival; only the best bands get invited to play there.
“Start to play one of the dance tunes, and if I know it I’ll sing along; if I don’t, I’ll tell you to choose another song,” she smirked at her decision to control the circumstances.
Grange didn’t mind. He concluded that his acquiescence would let them carry out the mini-concert in the shortest possible time, so that he could go to his bed and rest. He raised his flute, and started to play a quick-paced dance step, one that just hours earlier had brought hordes of men and women into the center of the plaza to dance when Guy’s band had played it after a break.
Grace smiled, then began to sing the lively lyrics immediately. Her voice was good, Grange thought distractedly; it wasn’t a great voice, but there seemed to be some particular harmonic affinity between her voice and his flute that caused the combination of the two to be greater than the sum of the parts. He felt better as he played and listened to Grace – even his cramped fingers seemed to relax as his entire body responded pleasantly while the music played on.
The song came to an end, and Grace smiled gently. “Let’s sing something slower now,” she suggested.
Grange complied with a soft ballad. He saw Grace’s face change to a momentary blank expression as the notes began to flow from the flute, then a wistful expression, then she began to sing the lyrics to the song.
It was a peaceful love song. Like many of the tunes he had learned in Palmland, Grange did not know the words to this ballad, so he listened to Grace sing about the girl who went to the harbor every morning, waiting for her lover’s ship to arrive, showing up day after day as the seasons changed and the ship never returned.
When the song finished, Grange lowered his flute. “That’s too sad a tune to end with. Shall we play one more?” he asked.
“Yes, let’s,” Grace agreed with a smile. Grange raised his flute and began another snappy dance tune, one that Grace was quick to sing to. It was a short song, and they finished just two minutes later, on an upbeat note.
Grange stood up to leave. “I’ll see you in the morning,” Grace said with a yawn, and he left the room, went to his own large room, opened the windows to admit fresh air and insects, then fell soundly asleep.
Chapter 16
“Get out of bed, Grange. We’ve got chores to do,” Grace spoke in a no-nonsense voice as she entered his room before sunrise the next morning. Grange slowly complied, and followed the girl through the same routine of actions she had led him through the previous morning. When it was time for her to light the Flame of Focus though, he watched closely, observing her every move as she started the small fire and added the peculiar ingredients, then recited the chant that he did not understand, and caused the flame to morph into the bright floating sphere of energy that it would remain.
“What is it?” he asked softly.
“We don’t have time for that discussion. You’ll have to ask the master,” Grace said dismissively. She led him on to the next set of chores, then went with him to gather firewood and water.
There were no cavalry riders present when they rounded the corner by the stables, and Grange heard his companion sigh in relief.
“I met one of the riders yesterday at the armory,” he said in a conversational tone. “She told me that Cale was demoted from the cavalry.”
“That serves him right,” Grace said angrily as they reached the wood pile. “He was a smug, lying, self-serving piece of manure!” she spoke vehemently. Her emotions were high, Grange saw, as she thought about the cavalry rider who had apparently spurned her in the past, and who had mocked him the morning before. The pair returned to the wizard’s hall, awkwardly carrying both firewood and pails of water, which they deposited and then began the rest of their work.
They finished without the rancor of the morning before, and in time to sit down to breakfast when the meal was first served. Eli was already seated at the same table he had sat at with Wizard Brieed the day before, though the master wizard wasn’t present. Grange didn’t want to sit with the sour personality that Eli seemed to exhibit, he decided.
Grace sat down with the same girl she had sat with before, and Grange noted that she didn’t invite him, so he went to another table in the corner, by a small window that looked at a masonry wall only a few feet away. A servant brought a plate of food and a glass of juice. Grange bit into the first strip of bacon, as two young boys came and sat down with him.
“This is usually our table. Mind if we sit here?” one of them asked plaintively.
“No, not at all, have a seat,” he replied. “I’m Grange,” he introduced himself.
“We know your name. We know you’re a new apprentice. And we know you’ve got your own set of rules. Why is that?” one of the boys asked bluntly.
“Who are you two?” Grange asked, surprised by their forthright description of him.
“I’m Jom,” one said. “I’m Appal,” the other added.
“We’re the acolytes,” Jom explained.
“That means we probably will never be wizards, but we’ll be close enough to be useful. You probably knew that,” Appal added, as Grange shook his head.
“Why are you at our table? You sat with the master and Eli yesterday,” Appal pointed out.
“Are there assigned seats?” Grange asked. He wasn’t really concerned whether there was, or if he had to sit with Eli; if so, he would.
“Not assigned,” Jom admitted.
Grange ate his food, as the two boys started bolting their own breakfasts, until Wizard Brieed strolled into the room and directly over to their table.
“Musical master, we’ll have to talk about your abilities sometime soon. In the meantime, I’d like for you to go study the Flame of Focus again this morning,” he spoke to Grange. “And I want you two troublemakers to eat more bacon,” he told the acolytes, who grinned at the suggestion.
Grange left the dining room, went down the hall, and returned to the shrine-like room where the small flame shone. It had not changed since he and Grace had walked away from it. He took a seat, tried to wipe all other concerns and thoughts from his mind, and stared at the flame, letting the seconds become minutes, and the minutes drag out as though they were hours.
After a long stretch of time during which his concentration weakened, he sat alone, staring at the Flame of Focus, desperate to see evidence of energy flowing towards the bright glow.
“Confound it all!” he muttered. “Why can’t I see it?”
You’re trying too hard, one of the jewels replied.
Pull up your sleeve, and let me emerge, she instructed.
“What are you going to do?” Grange
asked suspiciously.
I’m going to help you, if you cooperate, stubborn oaf, the jewel snapped. It was Rigan, he suspected. There were personality traits that only she exhibited among the jewels.
He obligingly tugged his shirt sleeve upward, then watched and felt a pulling sensation, followed by a sharp sting, as the black jewel popped out of his flesh, leaving an ugly red mark on his arm while the shimmering crystal morphed into a small black figure that floated in the air.
Do you see me? she asked.
“Of course I see you,” he replied crossly. “You’re less than an arm’s length away from my eyes.”
Well, you can’t see the energy, so I thought maybe you couldn’t see me, Rigan shot back.
Now, watch me move about, she told him as she slowly floated back and forth in front of him.
“I see you,” he assured her.
Good, now relax, and close your eyes, Rigan told him.
“You won’t do anything, will you?” he wasn’t sure why he felt so crabby, tussling with the jewel as he was. Perhaps it was the frustration of not seeing the energy streams, he decided.
One more insult and I’m going to stick you with my sword, she answered menacingly, waving the small obsidian weapon.
Grange closed his eye lids.
You can’t see me now, can you? Rigan asked.
“Of course not,” he answered.
But you know I’m here, she pointed out.
“I can hear you talking,” he retorted.
Actually, you can’t, her reply brought him up short. Use all the senses; you can receive visions of the energy, just as you receive thoughts from us.
I will say nothing now; keep your eyes closed, and point to where you sense I am, the tiny force proposed. And relax, she added. Take a deep breath, and exhale.
Grange did as she suggested, then tried to find the place inside himself where the voices of the jewels seemed to arrive. He sensed the part of his soul where the jewels intersected with him.
That’s it, Rigan said. You’re getting close, she seemed to comprehend what he was doing.
He pointed to where he thought the small flying jewel was, then felt his finger start to slowly track the being’s movement, acting more on its own than on his volition. It seemed like he could hear a soundless movement, while through his eye lids he imagined that he saw a glowing contrail of light wispily recording the trail that the black being blazed through the air.
“I see it!” he exclaimed, and his eyes popped open.
He could indeed see wisps of energy floating along the path that Rigan took, and as he watched, most of the faint energy evaporated, but a few strands floated over to the Flame of Focus. While his attention followed them, he became aware of the minute strands that seem to congeal in the air closest to the flame, then get sucked into it, the agglomeration of invisibly small units of the mystical energy that seemed to exist everywhere.
And you heard it too, didn’t you? Rigan asked. She suddenly zoomed towards his arm, and transfigured herself into a jewel once again, as she resumed her place in his flesh with a momentary flash of pain. Your practice of the musical arts seems to affect how you perceive the energy – though that’s not a bad thing, she commented conversationally.
She was right. He felt an odd intermingling of his senses as he examined the energy. The perception was a sensation, one that was like hearing light, or seeing sounds with his eyes. It didn’t make sense, and was unlike any experience he had ever known before, yet it seemed to work.
Grange looked at the Flame once again, seeing the minute but distinct tendrils of energy float into the light, then disappear in the glow. He heard a noise at the door.
“No luck so far?” Grace’s voice asked from behind him, without much sympathy.
“Actually, I can see the energy entering the Flame,” he replied calmly.
“That’s impossible!” Grace declared flatly, coming to stand next to where he sat. “You’ve only been here a couple of days. It takes months to see the power – at least weeks,” Grace insisted.
“I sense it,” Grange assured her.
“Really?” she asked scornfully. “Can you see this?” she reached into the front of her blouse, pulled her wand free, then pointed it at the Flame.
“Do you see that?” she asked.
“I don’t see anything,” Grange said, puzzled.
Grace closed her eyes, and seconds later a steady stream of energy emerged from the end of her wand and floated directly towards the Flame.
“I see it now,” Grange commented.
“You turd!” she said angrily. The energy from her wand shut off abruptly, and she shoved the stick back into her blouse. “How can this be possible?”
She swiveled on her heel, and left the room. “Master!” Grange heard her voice calling in the hallway.
He gave a smile. “She does not like me now,” he said softly. “Again.”
She likes your music, the jewels said. But she is an unhappy person; she does not feel respected for what she is becoming.
Grange sat in silence, watching the fascinating patterns of energy coalescing out of apparent nothingness a few inches outside of the Flame, then gently floating into the sphere to power its brilliant glow. It was a calm and serene visual appearance.
“So what is this I hear?” Brieed’s voice spoke from behind him.
"I see the energy flowing to the Flame," Grange replied without turning to look.
"Did the jewels help you?" Brieed shrewdly asked.
"Yes," Grange admitted. The wizard clearly knew about his companions, had seen them in action.
"What jewels?" Grace's voice questioned. Grange hadn't realized that she had returned with Brieed’s. “The ones on his arms?”
"Never you mind, dear," Brieed replied. "You go along and practice your work. And make plans to go with Grange tonight," he added.
"What?" both Grange and Grace asked simultaneously.
"Grange will be playing music tonight and it would work well for you to join him," Brieed said mildly. "Now run along."
Grace's footsteps faintly receded, and Brieed spoke. "They're quite a boon for you. What are they grooming you for, I wonder," he said conversationally as he walked into the room. "They're not likely to be doing this out of random goodness in their soulless hearts," he mused. "And you’re not telling all that you know, are you?" he asked shrewdly.
Grange silently shook his head, still staring at the Flame.
"Very well," Brieed sighed. "You're done here for the day. I need to think about your role. In some ways, I hope it is simply the jewels that have made this happen. I’m not sure what we’d do if I thought you had developed the ability this quickly on your own."
"I’ve got the day off? What shall I do?" Grange asked in surprise.
"Whatever you and your jewels decide," Brieed sounded faintly jealous. "Just be back in time to take Grace out with you tonight," Brieed commanded.
Grange stood up. He was content to sit and watch the Flame further, but also pleased to be free. He wasn't as happy about the forced arrangements with Grace, but the wizard had commanded it, and so it would be, he silently decided.
"Thank you, master," the title felt awkward, but appropriate, and he went to his room to fetch his sword, then left the building, clutching the pass he had retained from the prior day.
He wanted to go swimming, he knew. It was a reminder of his time with Ariana, a memory he held onto fondly.
At the harbor front he shed his clothes in a pile, then waded into the warm waters of the harbor and began to stroke through the choppy water, until he happened to glance at the shoreline and saw a pair of street urchins examining his belongings.
"Leave off!" he shouted, swimming back towards land as quickly as he could.
The two boys looked up as he approached and laughed. One of them picked up his gleaming blue sword and they started running to escape.
"That's mine!" Grange screamed angrily. "Give it back! It belongs to m
e!"
The boy carrying the sword suddenly turned with a dramatic change in momentum, as the sword wrenched itself from his grasp. The blade flew through the air to the astonishment of all who watched, and planted its hilt firmly in Grange's grasp, as he stood in the shallow water of the harbor’s fringe.
The boys shouted, and took off running at an even faster speed, frightened by the sword’s action.
Did you miss me? Ariana’s voice asked him dryly.
“What happened? Did you do that?” Grange held the blade in front of himself and addressed it.
I am pledged to you. The sword is yours, blessed by Miriam, destined to be one of your weapons in the battle that will come, the jewel-spirit said.
Grange tilted the handle of the sword up so that he could see the sparkling crystal at the end. “I know that you’re not soulless; I don’t care what Brieed says,” he laughed.
Don’t you forget it, Ariana said. Now, let’s go to the armory for more practice, shall we?
Grange left the water and pulled his clothes on, then walked back to the palace and used his pass to enter through the gate. He walked to the armory, and walked only a half dozen steps within when he heard his name called.
“Doesn’t that wizard ever make you do any magical work?” Brielle asked.
“Doesn’t your squad ever make you do any cavalry work?” Grange asked in reply, as the woman came striding over from where she had been practicing her knife throwing. “I came to get in some extra practice today,” he explained.
“Let’s go back to working on your knife grip then,” Brielle told him. “I’m not doing anything else this afternoon; come over here.”
“I’m not throwing knives until you promise I’ll get to practice with my sword,” Grange said stubbornly.
Brielle stared at him through narrowed eyes, her lips pursed. “I could have let Cale stab you in the back, you know, and not had to deal with your stubbornness about this sword of yours. What makes it so special that you want to practice with it, when there’s so much else you need to learn?”
The Elemental Jewels (Book 1) Page 28
