There wasn’t much light in the tent, just a little bit that leaked in from the fire outside. Mrs. Wilson and Sergeant Amy were already asleep, and I didn’t want to wake them by lighting a lantern, but I didn’t really need to. I wasn’t planning to look at the pendant with my eyes.
Slowly, I started the concentration exercise Professor Ochiba had taught me back in day school. When I was calm and centered, I let my world-sensing go just a little, just enough to feel the pendant and the layers of spells around it.
Before, I’d always studied the pendant as a whole thing, partly because that was the way I thought of it and partly because that was the way Aphrikan magic looked at most things. But the pendant and the spells weren’t just one thing. Nothing ever was, really.
What other things is this? I thought, and started a mental list of everything I could think of. The pendant was an ornament, a necklace. It was an Aphrikan teaching tool — I knew that from what Wash had told me. It was a physical thing (the robin’s-egg whorl of wood) plus a bunch of magic things (the spells that wrapped it). I paused and considered on that for a minute. A bunch of spells — not just one layer wrapped around a core, but lots of layers, like an onion.
The pendant gave me dreams … I stopped again. That was what it did, not what it was. That was where I’d gone wrong the last time I thought about it. I needed to understand what it was, really understand it, before I got to fussing about what it did.
So, layers. Onion layers, old ones and new ones, each a little different, some that felt purely Aphrikan and some that had an Avrupan feel mixed in, and some like nothing else I’d felt before.
Without really thinking, I checked the top layer of magic around the pendant. It wasn’t anything as purposeful as spells, I realized. It felt a bit like Avrupan magic, and a bit like Aphrikan magic, and a bit like me.
And there wasn’t any don’t-see-it magic mixed up in that layer. I checked again, then went down to the next layer of spells. That was a mix of Avrupan and Aphrikan magic, too, though it wasn’t much like the topmost layer, and it felt like Wash.
It made sense; Wash and I were the last two people who’d had the pendant. That probably meant there was a layer of magic for every person who’d worn it. I studied the Wash layer. There was a little bit of don’t-see-it in that layer, but not much.
The next layer down was unfamiliar, more Aphrikan and less Avrupan, and there was a lot of the magic that didn’t seem much like anything I’d seen before. And the don’t-see-it spells were part of the magic that didn’t feel Aphrikan or Avrupan.
I poked further down the layers, and saw that the next several were the same: a little Avrupan magic, and a lot of Aphrikan and unfamiliar magic. And the don’t-see-it spells were always part of the magic that felt unfamiliar.
I was getting tired, which wasn’t a surprise, so I stopped there. I thought some more, and then, before I let go of my world-sensing or the pendant, I resolved very firmly to keep studying the pendant and its magic the very next night, no matter how tired I was. Especially the don’t-see-it magic. Then I hooked the leather cord back over my head and settled under the blankets with a sigh, hoping that this time, I wouldn’t forget about trying again.
Mr. Corvales, Adept Alikaket, and Captain Velasquez got everyone up before dawn the next morning to eat and pack up, and we left the wagonrest shortly after sunrise. I could see that in a few more days we’d have the routine down, and by the time we got to unexplored territory, we’d be running like clockwork.
We moved faster on the second day, so much that we passed up the first wagonrest and went on to one a little farther out. Sure enough, settling in went better that night, too. After dinner, I hunted up William. I found him sitting alone by one of the campfires, making notes in a journal, but he set it aside as soon as he saw me. “Hello, Eff! Is it the mammoth again?”
“No, I just wanted to talk,” I said.
William gave me a wary look, but waved at the log beside him. “What about?” he asked as I sat down.
I hesitated, but I didn’t see any point in beating around the bush. “Your father talked to me at the good-bye dinner.”
William stiffened. “If he said anything insulting —”
“No, no!” I said. “He wished us all the best of luck, and he said it was an honor to be chosen, and that any parent would be proud and worried both. I’m pretty sure he meant him and you. I mean, that he’s proud of you and worried, too.”
“Oh.” William sat silent for a minute. The firelight reflected from his glasses, making it impossible to tell what he was thinking. After a bit, he sighed. “He couldn’t just say it, could he?”
“He’s as stubborn as you are,” I said. “Maybe more, even. And his temper is a lot worse. But I think he meant it.”
“Three and a half years,” William said slowly. “He hasn’t spoken to me in three and a half years. Or written, or … or anything. I was sure he’d never change his mind. But yesterday …”
“Yesterday?” I prompted when he didn’t go on.
“He came to West Landing to watch us leave. I saw him at the back of the crowd by the feed store.” William looked down. “Everyone else was waving and yelling good luck, even all the people who didn’t know anyone in the expedition. He just stood there. I wondered —”
“He wanted to see you,” I said softly. “Just … just in case.”
“That … that …” William stopped and pressed his lips together. Apparently, he wanted to call his father something that he couldn’t bring himself to say in front of a lady, even if the lady was only me. “What does he expect me to do with this?” he burst out after a minute. “We’re going to be gone for two years! Maybe more!”
“We can still send mail for a while,” I suggested. “Until we get to the end of settlement territory, anyway.”
William snorted. “What would I say to him? ‘I’m sorry I went against your wishes’? ‘I’m glad I’m finally doing something you approve of’? Well, I’m not sorry, and I’m certainly not here in order to make him think well of me!”
I shrugged. “I can’t tell you what to say,” I told him. “Or even that you should write him. Just that if you want to, you only have another month and a half to do it in. There won’t be any way to send mail after we get past St. Jacques du Fleuve.”
William nodded. I sat with him a while longer while he stared at the fire, but neither of us spoke. After a bit, Professor Torgeson and Dr. Lefevre came by and took seats on the other side of the fire. They were in the middle of a discussion about magical theory, and it didn’t take long before William was drawn in. I listened for a while, but I didn’t understand more than half of it, so eventually I left.
Three days later, at the Mammoth Hill wagonrest, I saw William adding a letter to the mailbag. I didn’t speak of it, and neither did he, but I could see he felt better after that, like something that had been hanging over him had drawn back.
The talk I had with William was practically the only time I had to draw breath during the first week of the expedition. Professor Torgeson and I were making observations and taking notes right from the start, even though we were passing through territory that was partly settled and pretty well mapped. Professor Torgeson wanted to compare what we’d found two years ago to the plants and animals we were seeing now; she said it would be useful to see the changes over time, and also how the plants and animals changed as we got farther west.
After that first evening, Captain Velasquez asked me to make sure the mammoth stayed happy. The harness spells didn’t give any more trouble, but I got the feeling that the captain wasn’t any better pleased than Professor Torgeson about having a great hairy wild critter around, no matter what Adept Alikaket said or how handy it was. So I had to check on him every morning and night, and regularly throughout the day.
Other people started in on their work right off, too. Whenever the train of wagons stopped to rest the horses, Elizabet and Bronwyn dashed to the rear and pulled out their tools — five or
six dowsing rods for Bronwyn, each made of a different wood or metal, and a big box of mirrors and chains and measuring sticks for Elizabet. They worked like mad right up until Captain Velasquez called everyone to roll out again. Mr. MacPhee and Dr. Visser, the minerals and agriculture experts, ran around collecting rocks and plant samples at every stop. Mr. MacPhee left most of his rocks in a pile by the wagonrest gates the next morning, but Lan told me that was because he stayed up past midnight writing out notes and making sketches by lantern light.
I was determined to stick to my resolution about the pendant, but I found out pretty quick that studying it at day’s end didn’t work out so well. After the second time I fell asleep in the middle of the concentration exercise, I decided to try inspecting it at the other end of the day. On the third night of the trip, I asked Mrs. Wilson to roust me out when she got up to start breakfast for everyone. She looked a little doubtful, but she agreed.
Sergeant Amy frowned and told us both that as long as we didn’t wake her even a minute early, she didn’t care what we did. Mrs. Wilson winked at me and whispered that she’d make sure the sergeant got first go at the coffee. I wasn’t sure that would pacify her, but I figured it was worth a try.
Much to my surprise, Mrs. Wilson and I weren’t the only ones up earlier than we had to be. I’d expected the two men finishing up the night watch — Captain Velasquez had insisted that we begin as we meant to go on, so he’d posted guards even though we were still staying at wagonrests and were relatively safe. I hadn’t expected so many people to be up and moving, though, and I certainly hadn’t anticipated seeing Adept Alikaket over in a smallish open spot by the wagons.
Curious, I went nearer. He seemed to be just standing there with his eyes closed and his hands together. I watched for a moment, then let my world-sensing go. Right then, the adept stretched his arms wide and stepped sideways with the same slow, controlled, dancing motion as when he and the other aides had cast the spells at the medusa lizard back in the study center the previous summer.
Adept Alikaket’s magic unfurled as he moved, changing and growing stronger with every step and gesture he made. The first day, with the mammoth, he’d felt to my world sense like the embers in a banked fire; now he felt like a baker’s oven firing up to prepare for the day’s bread making. He was nowhere near as powerful as Lan, but he had plenty enough magic compared to regular folks.
The adept went through a series of slow movements, over and over, while his magic settled into a pattern around him. Despite his strength, the pattern felt incomplete. Remembering the way the Hijero-Cathayans had worked at the study center, I figured his magic was meant to be used with a group.
I got so caught up in watching the patterns the adept’s magic made that I barely noticed when he finished his dance and began to draw his power back in. When it was back to being banked embers again, he stood still for a moment or two, then bowed in the direction of the growing pre-dawn light. He walked toward me. I started, and then apologized for watching without asking first.
“If I had wanted you to leave, I would have spoken,” Adept Alikaket said. “The way of boundless balance is not sacred or secret.”
“It was very interesting, sir,” I said. “I’ve never seen anyone who could … raise and lower their magic like that.”
The adept’s eyes narrowed for a moment, then he smiled slightly. “I remember now. You’re the one Master Adept Farawase remarked, the Avrupan who studies the Aphrikan way.”
“Columbian,” I corrected without thinking.
“I beg your pardon?”
“I’m not Avrupan; I’m Columbian,” I said, though by then I felt a little foolish for making such a fuss over it.
“Ah. Forgive me; I meant no insult to your young country.” He paused, as if he were debating over what to say next, or how to phrase it. Then he said, “You haven’t met a Cathayan magician before?”
“Master Adept Farawase was the first,” I replied, nodding.
“Then you would not have seen the control of the heart of magic before,” he said with absolute certainty. “It’s very difficult to learn, and only Cathayan magic requires it.”
“Why is that?” I asked before I could stop myself. I blushed. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be rude. I just —”
“You are young and curious,” Adept Alikaket said. “It doesn’t matter.”
“We don’t learn much about Hijero-Cathayan magic in school,” I said. “I don’t mean to pry.”
“Again, it isn’t a secret. It is merely that few Avrupan magicians have the patience to listen and understand. Your Avrupan magic is a thing apart from yourselves — wood to be carved, stone to be shaped, metal to be melted and re-formed. The spell is outside you and separate from you, subject to your will.”
I thought about my classes and the Avrupan spells I knew, and nodded. The adept was maybe simplifying some, but I didn’t think he was far off.
“Aphrikan magicians also do not require such control, because their magic is also apart from themselves,” Adept Alikaket continued. “Their magic is outside, but alive, to be shaped as a master gardener shapes his trees and bushes, not as a smith shapes metal or a carver shapes wood. Do you see?”
I nodded again. I wasn’t as sure about his view of Aphrikan magic, but it was certainly one way of looking at it, and it fit comfortably with the way I felt sometimes when I was using Aphrikan magic.
“Our magic, the Cathayan magic, is us, and we are it, all together, as drops of water are a river and the river is made of drops of water. We flow together, and then apart, but it is still all the same. It is the harmony, the balance, that joins us to cast the elegant spells and then parts us once more. Do you see?”
“I think I understand what you’re saying, Adept, but I don’t quite see how it works.”
“That is because you are Avrupan,” Adept Alikaket said, but he sounded kind. “Always, Avrupans want to take things apart to see how they work. Cathayan magic doesn’t come apart. Like the river, it simply is.”
“People understand how rivers work,” I objected.
“You Avrupans, you fill a bucket with water and think you know the river. But if you take the river to pieces, it isn’t a river any longer.”
“A steam engine isn’t a steam engine once you take it apart, either,” I pointed out. “A river is just … bigger, and more the same all over. Not made of all different pieces.”
Adept Alikaket laughed and shook his head. “I fear you’re too literal, Miss Rothmer. I mean only that Cathayan magic is not like your magic, and it isn’t like Aphrikan magic. All your thinking will not understand it.”
“More heart than head,” I said, half to myself. But heart didn’t feel right for Hijero-Cathayan magic. If Avrupan magic was mostly head, and Aphrikan magic was mostly heart, then Hijero-Cathayan magic ought to be a third thing, something that wasn’t head or heart but that fit with both.
“That is a good way to look at them,” Adept Alikaket said approvingly. “In fact —”
“Eff!”
I turned and saw Lan walking toward me. Behind him the whole camp was stirring.
“Morning, Lan!” I said as he came up to us.
“Good morning, Mr. Rothmer,” Adept Alikaket said.
“I wish you good day, Adept Alikaket,” Lan said, bowing.
The adept smiled broadly. “You’ve studied the customs of the Confederacy?”
“Only a little,” Lan replied. “I was very interested in Hijero-Cathayan spellwork, and the class I took started with history and customs.” He looked mildly annoyed. “There was a lot of history; it didn’t leave much time for spells.”
Adept Alikaket laughed again. “I think that many school-children in the Cathayan Confederacy would agree with you.”
“It was very interesting,” Lan said, a little too quickly. “I was just — I’d been hoping —”
“You’ve heard that Hijero-Cathayan magic is the most powerful in the world, and you wanted to learn some of it,”
Adept Alikaket finished for him.
Lan flushed, but raised his chin. “Is that wrong?”
“It’s very understandable, for an Avrupan.”
“I’m still interested,” Lan said, and I could hear the stubborn note in his voice.
“Lan!” I said. I’d expected him to corner Adept Alikaket sooner or later, but I hadn’t thought he’d try on the third day of the trip, when everyone was still furiously busy.
Adept Alikaket looked from Lan to me and back, and smiled ruefully. “I should have known, when Farawase daimacoch asked if I would attend this expedition to complete my shengmacoch, that I would end by teaching after all.”
Lan went beet red. “I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t mean —”
“You aren’t the first to ask, Mr. Rothmer,” Adept Alikaket reassured him. “And as I said, I should have expected. All of your magicians have an admirable thirst for knowledge. It is my duty as shengmacoch to assist as much as I can.”
“Shengmacoch?” I said.
“One who would become what you call a master adept, a daimacoch,” he said. He looked at Lan. “I will speak to Mr. Corvales and the captain soon. In the meantime, you are welcome to join my morning practice.”
“Practice?” Lan said, eyes wide. “But —”
“Not spells,” I said quickly. “It’s kind of like dancing. I told you, remember?”
“Dancing?” Lan looked even more appalled than he had before.
“I trust you will explain, Miss Rothmer.” The adept’s voice sounded solemn and serious, but his eyes crinkled at the corners in amusement. “In the meantime, I am to breakfast. I enjoyed our conversation.” He bowed and walked away.
“Conversation?” Lan said. “Eff, what on earth —”
“We can talk over breakfast,” I cut in. “I’m hungry, and I don’t think Mr. Corvales will hold everybody up just because we’re late finishing our meal. Come on.” And I dragged him off toward the smell of wood smoke, coffee, and oatmeal-wheatberry pan bread.
The Far West (Frontier Magic #3) Page 17
