Quickly, she set the books on the shelf, rearranging a few titles that were out of order, then took a rag and started dusting the small library. She had been alone with Giriraj for a little over two months, once Rasul and Tika left the mountain, and they had spent the vast majority of that time in the underground complex that the Choosing trials had been held in. Giriraj spent most of his time alone in his study, reading this book or that, sending Amethyst to fetch a new volume whenever he tired of or finished the one he had been reading.
Most of her tasks were very simple but incredibly boring. She would bring Giriraj his food, which continued to appear on a table in the dining chamber, and she would clear away his dishes. If she placed them back on the table before she went to bed, they were gone when she woke. If Giriraj had any servants, she never saw them – whatever the mechanism was that filled and cleared the dining chamber, it was efficient. She suspected it was an enchantment of some sort, but when she tried to seek out the source of it, she saw nothing.
The only task that made her pause was Giriraj's baths. The first time he had ordered her to accompany him, she had balked, turning away when he disrobed, and he had rebuked her. He reminded her of the agreement she had made, that in exchange for his teaching, she would follow any orders he gave her. He ordered her to assist him in washing, and so she had, reluctantly, keeping her robes and trousers on as she sat behind him in the warm water of the bath. She washed his hair for him, as well as his back and shoulders, before he dismissed her, with orders to return when he was done and bathe herself.
After two months, it became easier for her, though she was still uncomfortable in his presence at those times and spent as much time as possible behind him. He asked her why she stayed clothed while in the bath, and she told him that she did not feel comfortable naked. He had scoffed, grumbling about Lonwick prejudices and backward, archaic sensibilities, but had not ordered her to disrobe.
Amethyst was cleaning a rack of glass bottles, each containing this powder or that fluid, when she heard Giriraj call to her. She set down her rag and hurried to his study, carefully opening his door and approaching his desk. She clasped her hands together in front of her and bowed her head. “Yes, Giriraj?”
He was writing busily on a sheet of parchment, the feather quill in his hand scratching across its surface. “I want you to prepare a chamber. I have a guest coming, and she may or may not stay for the night. If she decides to stay, she will need her own quarters.”
Amethyst nodded. “Shall I prepare one of the chambers off the dining hall, then?”
Dipping the quill into an inkwell, he shook his head. “No. There is a chamber to the left of the library that is currently filled with crates and barrels. Move those into one of the spare bedrooms, then clean it thoroughly. I will make sure it is furnished.”
She bowed to him. “Yes, Master.”
He continued writing, ignoring her as she left the room. She went to the chamber he had mentioned and opened the door, her shoulders sagging at the haphazard pile of wooden boxes and barrels stacked upon each other. She would have to haul these past the room where Rasul had trained them, through the bathing room, and into one of the bedchambers. She had been almost finished cleaning the library, and no doubt this would spread dust through it again.
This was not what she had in mind when she agreed to become Giriraj's apprentice. She had to admit that she had been warned several times of the reality of her tasks, but she had somehow imagined it as a bit more glamorous, with more training and teaching than cleaning. She felt more like a servant than an apprentice, and now Giriraj was going to have a visitor that she would likely have to clean up after as well.
By the time she had moved all of the boxes and barrels into one of the bedrooms used by the other Hopefuls, Amethyst was exhausted. She passed a broom over all the corners, wondering how any spiders got into the mountain to make webs in the first place. Sweeping down the walls, she cleaned the dust from every surface, leaving a completely bare room behind.
She was covered in dirt and sweat when she heard the door to Giriraj's study open. He looked her up and down, tsking.
“Wait in your room until you hear my guest arrive. Once we have left the dining chamber, bathe yourself and then return to your duties in the library. I will not have my apprentice be seen in such a disheveled condition.”
Amethyst briefly considered reminding him that it had been his orders that made her look this way but held her tongue. Instead, she bowed her head. “Yes, Master.”
“What have I told you about using my name?”
“Yes, Master Giriraj,” she said, correcting herself.
“Good. I'll teach you how to properly clean the dust from a room once our guests have departed. Now, off with you. She is due any moment.”
She picked up her broom and bucket of dust and left the library, making her way back to her bedroom. No sooner had she closed her door when there was a rush of wind that pushed underneath her door and a sharp smell of ozone. She paused, listening, and heard the entrance to the dining chamber open.
“Welcome, Ceara, to my domain. I trust your journey went well?”
A woman's voice answered him, middle-aged but light. “Oh, you know how these things go, Giriraj. It was but the work of a moment. No complications to speak of. Have you met my apprentice?”
“I have not. It has been some time since I was at the Citadel. I thought your apprentice was a woman.”
The woman laughed. “Oh, she was, for a time, but her clock started ticking, and her need for a baby outweighed her desire for magic. Ah well... this one shows more promise than she did, don't you, Eamon?”
Another voice, a young man, answered her. “Yes, Mistress.”
“That's a good boy. Now, Giriraj, I assume you have a reason for summoning me all the way to Stromgard?”
“I do. Right this way. Your apprentice can come with us.”
“Of course. Come along, Eamon.” The voices grew quieter as they left the room. “Really, Giriraj, you could use a woman's touch in this place. It's far too drab for my tastes.” The door between the dining chamber and the bath closed, and Amethyst could hear no more.
She waited in her room for a while, leafing through one of the books she had brought with her until an appropriate amount of time had gone by. She took up a towel and a fresh outfit – since the racks that had held these things before were gone from the bathing room – and proceeded to the bath.
She washed quickly, conscious of the possibility of someone entering while she was in the water, scrubbing her skin and hair until all of the dust from the day was gone. There was a slight current in the bath that she had noticed once while bathing. She stayed near the outlet – a small hole with a copper grate covering it – to make sure that the dust from her body washed out of the warm mineral water as quickly as possible.
When she was clean, she stepped out of the bath, wringing her hair out, and wrapped herself in the towel. She gathered up her dirty clothes and returned to her room to finish drying and get dressed, rather than staying in the bath chamber; she didn't want to meet whoever Ceara was while mostly naked. She sorely missed her private bath chamber in Castle Lonwick... while Giriraj seemed to take no issue with public bathing, it was definitely not something she was too keen on.
Amethyst picked out a pair of clean trousers, a robe, and simple brown slippers, with a purple ribbon in her hair to hold it back. She left the broom and bucket in her room and returned to the library to finish cleaning.
She busied herself with dusting again, returning to the rack that she had been working on when Giriraj had called her into his study earlier. Though the door was closed, she could catch snippets of the conversation as she moved around the library. Ceara, in particular, spoke loudly enough to be heard, her light voice carrying better than Giriraj's deeper one.
“Ah, so you do have a new apprentice! I didn't notice anyone on the way through.”
Amethyst couldn't make out precisely what Giriraj sai
d, but she thought it was something about making herself presentable.
Ceara laughed in response. “You dog! It must have been hard, having a male apprentice for so long. I never had that problem myself. Either flavor works well enough for me.”
She moved away from the door, running her cloth over each of the tables and workbenches, wiping off the thin layer of dust that had collected on them as she had moved the contents of the room through the library. Just as she was finishing, the door to Giriraj's study opened and he stepped out, followed by a shorter woman, perhaps in her mid to late forties, with curly orange hair streaked through with white. She wasn't fat by any means, but she was definitely a little chubby, with wide hips and large breasts. Her eyes sparkled in the light – one bright green and the other a deep, rich blue – and a smirk played across her bright red lips. It seemed that every inch of her pale skin was covered in light freckles, which gave her an almost childlike look despite her age. Over her shoulders was a knit shawl of blue wool, and she wore an open-backed silk dress of the same shade that hung to the ground.
The crow's feet at the corners of her eyes crinkled as she smiled, seeing Amethyst. “Ah, there she is! I was wondering when I would meet you!” She stepped over to Amethyst, taking her hand warmly in her own, then pulling her in to embrace her tightly. “I am Ceara, the Master of Water. Welcome to the fold, my dear!” She held Amethyst at arm's length and glanced to the side, pointedly looking at Amethyst's ears. “And an elf, at that! I have never seen an elf in the council!”
“It has happened in the past,” said Giriraj as Ceara fawned over Amethyst. “Her name is Amethyst, and she hails from Lonwick.”
Ceara raised an eyebrow. “Lonwick, eh? Normally that means yellow hair and a snooty nose. I would have guessed a bit farther north than that, personally, but, well, you are from where you're from! So, how are you enjoying life as a wizard?”
For the first time, Amethyst was able to speak. “It's exciting, Master Ceara,” she said, the woman's exuberant nature almost overwhelming her. “I have learned so much in the last three months, I am looking forward to what else my master has to teach me.”
“Oh, a high born!” Ceara said, clapping her hands. “At least you came here knowing how to read! That's fantastic! It makes it so much easier, let me assure you!”
A young man stood behind Ceara, his hands clasped behind his back. Turning to him as if suddenly remembering that he was there, the Master of Water pulled him over. “This is my apprentice, Eamon. He isn't high born like you, but he has been my apprentice for almost a year now! He had started down the road of the priesthood before I got him, thankfully keeping him from wasting himself on that nonsense.” She scoffed, shaking her head. “At least they taught him how to read before he got out.”
The young man reached out and took Amethyst's hand, shaking it firmly. “It is a pleasure to meet you, milady,” he said. He wasn't very tall or broadly built, though he was a few inches taller than both Ceara and Amethyst. His blonde hair was nearly white, and like Ceara, he was covered in faint freckles over his ruddy skin, with intense, intelligent gray eyes that avoided making direct contact. Once Amethyst returned his handshake, he let go and stepped back, clasping his hands behind his back and standing silently behind his master. He wore clothing identical to Amethyst's, except instead of brown, they were deep shades of blue.
“He's quiet, obedient, and talented,” said Ceara. “About the best one could hope for!”
“Quite,” said Giriraj, getting impatient with the pleasantries and introductions. “If you don't mind, Ceara, we do have work to do. The sooner we get to it, the sooner we can finish.”
“Always practical, never social,” said Ceara, pouting. “One would almost think that you were made out of the rock that you command so well. Very well, this is your domain, after all. Let's be on our way! Eamon, you stay here with Amethyst. There's Master's work to be done.”
“Yes, Master Ceara,” the young man said, standing in place.
Giriraj led Ceara through a door in the library that Amethyst had not used – she made certain that she didn't enter any rooms without express permission – and closed it behind them, leaving Amethyst alone with Eamon. The young man kept his eyes on the ground, not looking at or speaking to Amethyst. She felt awkward standing in the room with him, so she tried to make some conversation. She had only spoken to Giriraj for nearly two and a half months and relished the opportunity for someone else to talk to.
“So... Ceara said that you have been her apprentice for about a year?” she said, folding the cloth and stowing it in a cabinet.
“Yes, milady. She has been very kind.” He kept his eyes averted as he spoke to her, standing more or less in a military 'at ease' position.
She furrowed her brow. “Is something the matter?”
“No, milady.”
Her furrowed brow turned into a frown. “They why won't you look at me?”
“In Lonwick, milady, common folk were told to keep our eyes averted and not stare at royalty.”
Amethyst paused then. “So you know who I am.”
“Yes, milady. Everyone knows of Amethyst Leonus, the purple-eyed daughter of King Alberic.”
Amethyst nodded. “I see.” She leaned against a bookshelf. “Even here, I can't get away from that.”
Eamon looked up at her, a curious look on his face. “Why would you want to?”
She crossed her arms, shrugging. “I don't know, maybe to be my own person instead of just 'the daughter of the king.' I'd like to be known for what I do, and who I am, not someone else.”
“So you decided to live in the shadow of the most powerful member of the Council?” Eamon shook his head. “I'm not sure if that was much of a lateral move, milady.”
She gestured at him with one hand. “Well, what about you? Why did you do it?” He was getting more comfortable talking to her, and she didn't want to lose that.
“Well, I am the son of a merchant. His third son, to be precise. I had no real hope of inheriting any part of my father's business, what with my two older brothers coming before me, and though I joined the convent, my heart wasn't really in it.” Eamon shrugged, releasing his hands from behind his back. “When I showed talent in the more basic forms of magic, Ceara came to me and made an offer. How could I refuse?”
Amethyst raised an eyebrow. “You didn't have to go through a Choosing? Were there others competing for a position as her apprentice?”
The young man shook his head. “No. She just came to me, showed me what she could do, we spent some time together, and after a week, she asked me if I wanted to come away with her.” He looked up at Amethyst, and she could see the devotion burning in his eyes. “I couldn't say no. I love her. She is my only family now.”
Amethyst looked at him, eyes wide at his declaration. “I see. She is definitely an interesting woman. She seems very lighthearted and warm.”
“She is.”
After speaking of Ceara, Eamon opened up a little, talking to Amethyst about where he was from, about his life before Ceara, and about his duties as her apprentice. They were very much the same as hers; bringing the Master of Water her meals, cleaning up after her, washing her clothes, and keeping her home tidy. They lived in an ancient lighthouse on the coast, far to the west and north of Mount Stromgard.
“The storms never really trouble us there,” he said. “Ceara keeps them at bay with her magic. The same with the hard winter freezes; she holds them back by drawing in the heat of the ocean to push it away. She says that it makes it harsher and colder in the Far North when she does that, but since nobody lives there, it's fine.”
“I think that there might be snow elves up there,” said Amethyst. “My father spoke of one that visited the castle before I was born. She claimed to hail from the Far North, and returned there after staying for some time.”
“Well, even if they do, aren't snow elves immune to cold?”
“That, I don't know,” she admitted. “Like I said, it was befo
re I was born, so, a hundred seventy or so years ago.
Eamon shook his head, raising his eyebrows. “That's a lifetime I couldn't even begin to fathom.”
“Oh, don't worry,” came Ceara's voice from the door that she and Giriraj had taken. “If you make it through all of your training, then eventually you'll be ticking off decades and centuries like the elves do. I know I have.”
Amethyst started, not expecting the Master of Water to come from behind as she did. The older woman winked at Amethyst. “Oh, I can move quietly when I want to. Don't let this dumpy old body convince you otherwise.”
Eamon bowed to his master. “You are lovely, Ceara.”
She reached out and playfully took him by the front of his sash. “You would think so. Such a good boy. Come, show me to my room. Giriraj said it's over this way. I want to... take my rest, then we'll have a bath and something to eat.”
Eamon nodded eagerly. “Yes, of course!”
Amethyst watched them go, and as they opened the door to what she thought was a bare chamber, she saw that it was fully furnished, with a large four post bed taking up the majority of the room. Firelight from a hearth played over colorful tapestries that hung from the walls. Ceara looked coyly over her shoulder at Amethyst, pausing in the doorway.
“Your master wants you to join him in the ceremonial chamber. I wouldn't keep him waiting for too long.” She turned back to Eamon, gripping the woven cloth belt that kept his robes shut. “Men are notoriously impatient things.” She shut the door, leaving Amethyst alone in the library once more.
She paused for a moment, listening to the giggling and quiet talking from the other side of the door, then left the library. She had never been in this part of the complex before; while Giriraj hadn't expressly forbidden her, he had never given her permission, either. Every time he entered, he told her to stay behind. Sometimes he was gone for a few minutes, sometimes a few hours, but he never talked about what he did in there, nor did he ever ask her to accompany him.
Snowfall Page 17
