Renata sat forward. “What?”
Sharrah was stunned. There were less than twenty bond pairs that could fly together!
Guildmaster Millinith looked from her to Renata. “That’s another reason I think we need to proceed with Sharrah’s idea of testing as soon as possible. We need to know how to schedule, and correctly, before we start those patrols.”
Leaning back in her leather chair, Guildmaster Millinith said, “I’ll get with Master Doronal to work out a variation of the barrier spell to use for capturing a nahual. You two,” she glanced from one to the other, “figure out where we will test, and how.”
Sharrah nodded. A testing protocol would be easy enough to design, but what about a location? Turning to Renata, she said, “Does the guild have maps?”
Renata frowned. “Only for where we currently patrol. And we’re going to have to change that if we’re going to be flying routes all over Muirgen.”
Guildmaster Millinith nodded. “That we will.”
Sharrah stood. “Then let’s go look at the maps Aeron has of the surrounding land. Those should be good enough to locate likely spots for testing and find one that suits our needs.”
+ + + + +
Itzel says that Millinith wishes to speak to you before we return to the Caer. She is on her way.
Doronal leaned back in Millinith’s desk chair and glanced down the short passage to the den where the two dragons lay. Alright.
He turned back to the documents on the desk. Juggling his two, well, three, loves was easier than he had anticipated, but it still took planning. He’d taken a new pupil, an accepted in Magic Craft that he taught at Caer Baronel. He’d been freed up when Aeron had transferred, for however long, to Dragon Craft. The accepted was doing well. Her lessons were down to once a week, so that made it a little easier to get away. Though, he still had to address any craft issues that arose at the Caer and monitor light-globe production, too. There were also the nahual investigation meetings he and Millinith had with Lord Baronel every two weeks. As the guild had taken over that responsibility, however, the meetings were more like updates of the guild’s progress. As such, Canneth was no longer as closely involved as he once was. That left the animal craft master more time for his own craft hall and for his personal life as well.
Doronal tapped his chin. He should probably make the effort to have a drink with Canneth, find out how he and his husband were doing, whether that petition to have the pigs—and their smell—moved to different pens outside of the Caer had been approved or not, and to tell him about the bonding experience. So much had changed since bonding Huemac! It would be nice to hold on to friends, at the very least.
The door opened and Millinith walked in. “Ah, good, you got the message?”
He smiled. “From Itzel? Yes.”
“We need to devise a variation of the barrier spell to completely enclose a nahual, but with small holes for air so that it doesn’t suffocate.”
He blinked. “And we need to do this, why?”
“Because,” she sat in the chair between his legs and leaned back against him, “we’re going to do an experiment with a nahual.”
She smelled fantastic. He breathed her in and said, “An experiment?”
“Chanté has a theory that the reason some patrols have suddenly sensed nahual much closer than they should be, is because the nahual had just crawled out of its den at that moment.”
“Hang on.” He leaned his head forward and to the side, staring into her eyes. “The ground affects nahual sense?”
She chuckled. “I love how quick your mind works. Yes. That’s the theory.”
He frowned. “If that’s true . . . the patrols are all wrong.”
She nodded. “Mm-hmm.”
Reaching around her to the desk, he picked up a sheet of paper. “And you say Chanté came up with that hypothesis?”
“He did.”
“He also developed this shield.” He held the sheet out to her. “Did you notice? If Aeron scribed this correctly—”
“It uses three main foci.” She nodded. “I noticed. I’d love to play around with it, if I only had the time. Until I do, that spell is off limits. I’ve told the Magic Craft instructors to apprise their students of that fact. I want to be absolutely certain the spell is safe to use for both the caster and the target.”
“True. The theories always said that using multiple foci should be possible, but no one had ever succeeded before. Some experiments failed in rather horrible ways.” He stared at the spell. “As such, once submitted to the Magic Craft Guild, there will be a great deal of interest in this spell. And the one who devised it.”
“As long as they go through proper channels to speak with him.” She sat forward and grabbed a blank sheet of paper. “But let’s get started on the barrier. I’d like to teach it to everyone doing patrols as soon as possible so that we can start the experiments.”
Eyes still on the shield spell, Doronal nodded absently.
Many attempts had been made over the centuries to use multiple foci, but once the primaries were added, spells began to get more and more unstable as support foci were added, and the spells spun out of control and collapsed within the next few steps. Several researchers made similar comments about the spells feeling highly unbalanced or lop-sided leading to that point.
He frowned. That reminded him of something, but he couldn’t recall what.
At any rate, this spell added the three primary foci in very specific ways. Thinking about the spell, imagining it being built, he saw that adding them in this fashion forced the primary foci to support each other, stabilizing the shield enchantment for further steps.
In a flash, he recalled the portal spell and the foci in it that were raised into hyper-magic states. If not for the hyper-magic transformations, the unbalanced portal spell would unravel into a giant mess and collapse. Those hyper-magic foci could be looked at as being in triplets, and there were three triplet groups.
He raised his brows. Was there some sort of underlying trilateral symmetry that had to be maintained for spells that went beyond what anyone had been able to devise until now? Normally, the order of steps used in building a spell, of adding foci, wasn’t too rigid. Sure, students were taught to use frameworks, were taught to build spells a certain way, but generally speaking, a spell’s foci could be added in almost any order and still succeed. What if that was only true for ‘simple’ spells? For more powerful magic, for spells with multiple primaries, spells that went beyond what was currently understood, what if trilateral symmetry was the secret to—
“Doronal!”
He blinked and turned to her. “I’m sorry, what?”
She chuckled. “I was asking if it would it make more sense to have one of the walls of the cube shorter to leave a gap for air, or would it be better to add a few steps in order to open small holes, instead?”
He stared at the spell she was scribing and shook off his thoughts about magic theory. “Hmm. Both have their advantages, but with the holes, the nahual will have a much smaller field of view through the barrier.”
“Good point.” She scratched away at the paper with the pencil, adding a few lines to the spell. “If we use holes placed on the bottom, all it will be able to see is the ground.”
“Even better. But what of resonance? It could try casting something on the soil.”
“It could cast a spell on the barrier itself, if it came to that, so we just have to hope they don’t know that aspect of magic.”
Doronal grunted. “True enough.”
Watching her finish the spell, he didn’t see anything to add. He looked back at Chanté’s shield spell.
Aeron had been able to come up with a few interesting enchantments beyond the portal spell, which on its own would be enough to qualify anyone as being a prodigy. But it seemed there was now another who also had interesting insights into magic.
“It might be worth keeping an eye Chanté,” he said.
“Oh? Why’s that?”
/>
He explained the admittedly loose connection he’d found between the portal spell and the shield spell and its possible implications concerning an underlying symmetry to magic.
Millinith grunted. “Interesting.”
“And,” he said, “the boy also came up with this theory about nahual sense. It’s been less than a month and already he’s been a valuable addition to the guild.”
Oddly, the expression on her face was contemplative rather than satisfied or happy. “Class one’s magic instructor mentioned to me that Chanté tastes magic foci rather than sees them.”
He blinked. “Tastes?”
“Yes.”
“That’s . . . different.”
“It’s not entirely unheard of, though.”
“It’s not?”
“At any rate, he’s definitely proving to be unusual in ways beyond his hair color.”
+ + + + +
Chanté fidgeted on the bench near the table and looked around at all those gathered on his balcony. A number of people sat or stood about, chatting. So many dragonlinked were here, in fact, that their dragons had to go elsewhere to locate a place to lounge.
He felt a little nervous having everyone here for him. What exactly was a welcome party, anyway? Thankfully, Quillan was here, too, sitting next to him on the bench.
“Here you go.” Cheddar held out a glass.
Chanté accepted it. “T–Thanks.”
Cheddar smiled, and having finished passing out drinks, walked back to the table and sat next to Sharrah.
Fillion and Gregor were at the table, too, as were Aeron and Willem. Renata and Jessip stood to the right, leaning against the long handrail. Terry and Korrie, their young dragons at their feet, stood near the den entrance. Liara was there, too, chatting with Korrie. Polandra had yet to arrive.
Everyone seemed happy. A little excited, even? Well, except Sharrah. The normally gregarious girl had been a little quieter than normal.
When she saw him looking at her, she quickly glanced away with a strange expression on her face.
Chanté wondered why that was. Did she not want to be here? Had he unintentionally done something to upset her?
She is not angry. She feels guilty, for some reason.
He looked at Nantli. She lay in the entrance to the den, near Nelli and Tenoch. Guilty? Why would she feel guilty?
I do not know, but she feels upset at herself for doing something wrong.
Doing something wrong? He glanced at Sharrah again. What wrong had she done?
“Try it.” Quillan bumped his glass against Chanté’s.
“Hmm?” He glanced at Quillan then at the drink. It was supposedly a guild favorite. A big chunk of ice floated in it, clinking now and then against the side. The cool glass was starting to get wet from condensation.
He took a sip and raised his brows. “It’s good.”
“Isn’t it?” Quillan took a sip. “I’d never heard of iced cider before.”
Pounding wing beats drew everyone’s gaze upward. Ikan and Polandra had arrived.
Polandra hopped down, patted Ikan on his large shoulder, then jogged over to Liara. “Sorry I’m late. Had some last minute things to take care of for Cirtis.”
Chanté watched Ikan lift into the air. The reddish-brown dragon was no doubt heading to wherever Mia was lounging.
Willem poured a glass from the pitcher and took the drink to Polandra. When he returned to his seat, Aeron stood.
“Well,” he said, “we’re all here, so we might as well get started.”
Chanté swallowed. On what, exactly?
Aeron looked around at everyone. “In the normal course of things, a dragonlinked will start off as a candidate in the Dragon Craft Guild. They’ll work and study alongside the other candidates, getting to know each other in the process.”
He chuckled. “That’s not exactly how all of us came to our callings, but from now on, that is how it will work, for the most part. There will likely always be special cases like the Guildmaster and Itzel, like Master Doronal and Huemac, like Polandra and Ikan, and,” he looked at Chanté and smiled, “like you and Nantli.”
Chanté glanced at Polandra. All those that Aeron mentioned had bonded older dragons.
“That being said, you are closer to Polandra than the others—and Renata, now that I think about it—in that you had no dragon training before bonding. Regardless of where someone was bonded or how it came to be, however, every dragonlinked shares another bond. A fellowship, if you will, with all dragonlinked. In time, working, studying, and saving lives together, we all came to realize this.”
Aeron smiled. “Candidates have a shared desire to be dragonlinked that keeps them focused, keeps them here long enough to feel that fellowship. Renata had something else that helped keep her here.” He glanced over his shoulder with a raised brow. “A certain red-headed individual?”
Renata chuckled.
Jessip murmured something in her ear.
She blushed and elbowed him.
Jessip let out a grunt but his lips were curved in a smile.
“As for Polandra,” Aeron said, “she had a warning for us and a fierce desire to get our help. Her warning was more important than even she knew, it turned out.”
He looked at Chanté. “You, on the other hand, are from somewhere even farther than the desert, it seems. Your customs are different. You look different. You even talk a little different.”
Chanté stared, heart pounding. Had they learned who he was? What was going to happen?
Do not worry. I sense nothing wicked.
Quillan sat forward on the bench. “What are you saying?” He looked wary.
Aeron smiled. “I’m saying, who cares?” He glanced briefly at Polandra before looking back at Quillan. “That’s all frosting on the cake. Superficial garbage that means nothing.”
He looked at Chanté. “Now, when you arrived, there was one thing we knew about you that was not superficial.” Eyes still on him, Aeron pointed toward the den. “Nantli chose to bond with you. And that by itself told us all we really needed to know.”
Murmurs of agreement came from around the ledge.
Chanté looked at the nodding heads, the smiling faces.
Quillan sat back, a thoughtful look on his face.
“So,” Aeron said, “we don’t care how long it takes to get to know all the little quirks that make you, you.” He shrugged. “We already consider you one of us.”
Chanté blinked.
“But,” Aeron said, “you probably haven’t had a chance to get to know us. I thought it was high time we corrected that.”
“I know when I first arrived here,” Polandra said, “even with everyone being so welcoming, I still felt like an outsider. I only knew Renata, after all, and things were different up here, not at all like what I’d experienced growing up in the Corpus Order.”
Chanté looked down at his drink. That actually was how he’d felt. He still did, a little.
“We’d just hate for you to feel like you don’t belong,” Polandra said, “and have that drive a wedge between us or compel you to leave.”
Chanté looked up at her.
“So,” Willem sat forward, “this belated party is to welcome an already-bonded dragonlinked to the guild, as well as give you the opportunity to learn a little more about your fellow dragon fanatics.” He smiled.
Chanté stared at Willem. That he knew that phrase, that he would use it inclusively like that . . .
The feeling rose within him again. Camaraderie.
“We want you to think of yourself as one of us, too,” Korrie said.
Next to her, eyes large and sincere, Terry nodded furiously. “Because you are.”
Nantli let out a happy bark.
Chanté swallowed and cleared his throat. It felt a little tight, for some reason. “I–I see.”
“So,” Aeron said, “I guess I’ll go first.” He sat and stared at his glass. “Hmm. Where to start? Well, I’m a bit slow on the upta
ke on some things.” His hand found Willem’s on the table. “It took me forever to realize how I felt about Willem, for instance.”
The blond boy chuckled.
“And,” Aeron said, “I sometimes mess up badly. I got Anaya and myself exiled from House Yaot, for example.”
“But,” Willem said, lifting their clasped hands, “you couldn’t ask for a better boyfriend or partner in the sky.”
From somewhere above, somewhere up on the top of the Guildhall, two draconic barks came to them. Anaya and Balam must be in full agreement.
Chanté felt his lips curve a little in a smile.
Every one of them told a little of themselves. They told of both good and bad things they’d done and of the fears and hopes they had. They told stories of crazy, stupid, silly, and incredibly brave things they’d done. Secret getaway spots were revealed. Tricks and tips on fighting nahual were spoken of. The best ways to brush down your bond-mate were argued over. All that and more nearly overwhelmed Chanté. It reminded him a bit of how he’d felt at the train robbery with so many emotions coursing through him. But this time, here with these people, the feelings were happy ones.
Listening to them, watching them, Chanté came to realize that the idea he had as Ulthis, the gift he’d created and its purpose, it had all come to pass in ways he hadn’t foreseen, in ways so much better than he’d planned on.
Since the talk with Quillan after the train robbery, he’d felt . . . safe was probably the best word. Rather than just existing here in the guild, he felt he could work towards contributing in some fashion. All these people had skills that they’d worked at, gotten very good at, and they used those skills to assist in various ways. He was handicapped, however, by his father’s rule. He had to be careful not to do anything that would give them knowledge beyond that which they already had. It was frustrating. But now, hearing how most of them had struggled with their own ideas of what they could do, he felt a little less concerned about how long it was taking him to figure out what he could do and how.
After the personal revelations ended, people migrated into small groups and continued to chat and laugh with each other. The relative solitude reminded him that he was still separate from them in a sense. Even though everyone else had talked a great deal about themselves, he could not do the same. There were things he still had to hide.
Of Gods, Trees, and a Sapling: Dragonlinked Chronicles Volume 4 Page 26
