Quiet Magic
Page 7
Elmira grinned at him.
"It takes some people that way," she said, with a mixture of amusement and sympathy, "And, then, some other people come in, go out, and never see what's here."
"It is a bit overwhelming," Rob confessed. "I'm sure I haven't really seen half of it."
She smiled and extended a languid hand to stroke the statue of the dog. It sighed and thumped its tail twice on the floor. Rob leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, opening them when he heard her low, cool laughter.
"Poor Mr. Davis," she offered.
He sat up straighter. "Rob. And not altogether poor. Just easily thrown off. Mine has been a simple life. So far."
She laughed outright and the dog thrust its nose into her hand. "But Uncle Tulaine would have it that ours is the simple life."
"Your Uncle Tulaine, Miss Brown--"
"Elmira."
"Elmira--"
"Aunt Elmira," Jeffrey cut in, "we've got everybody now." He was at her side, offering a pottery bowl piled high with wax shavings.
"Very good." She swung her feet to the floor, suddenly not languid at all, and stood with a dancer's smooth ripple of muscle. "Is it permitted for Rob to help us with the final stage?"
Jeffrey glanced over, blue eyes candid, brows pulled together. "Well..."
Rob held up his hands. "Just an explanation, Jeffrey--and a chance to watch, okay?"
"Sure," the boy said, face clearing. "That's okay."
Elmira had brought a candle to the square table where the girl was clearing the wax lumps away, carefully placing them in plastic bags. Jeffrey set the bowl down and took the bags to the other side of the room, near the door.
"I'll take them back to the candle room after we finish," he told his aunt's raised eyebrow and she nodded.
He took his place by the table and drew the candle to him. Rob stepped closer, trying not to intrude on the--ritual?--that was taking place.
The candle was a lovely thing, as white as the guest-candle he'd lit, or whiter, no more than four or five inches tall, slender and smooth. The base in which it sat was rainbow-colored--stained glass? he wondered--and the flame was a constant wedge of orange touched with blue along the edge.
Reverently, Jeffrey picked up the candle and began to turn it upside down. Instinctively, Rob reached out to keep the child from the flame--and let his hand drop, blushing and feeling foolish, as the boy glanced up from his concentration and turned the candle around so Rob could see the hole in the bottom of both candle and holder.
"Aunt Elmira made it," the girl said. "She's going to make one for me, too, so we can both have a candle at school."
Rob stared at the construct. He'd been completely fooled: The candle was so artful, so magically right that he'd never doubted it was wax and flame.
"And we'll put in some of everybody's candles into it," said Jeffrey. "So instead of having only one candle at a time, I'll have--" his eyes flicked to the girl. "How many are in the family now, Phoenix?"
"One hundred and twenty-seven, counting Great-great-grandpa and great Uncle Hilary and Great-aunt Ellie."
"Just think, Rob, a candle from everybody, everyday! And no matches for Miss Lyle to get all worried about." He reached out and took up a curl of butter-yellow wax and slid it into the hollow candle. "That's Uncle Tulaine."
Phoenix took up a sliver of red-and-white stripe. "That's Dad."
Elmira put down a long hand, selected a scrap of indigo and deposited it. "That's Aunt Phyllis."
There was a pause, then Jeffrey pushed the bowl across the table. "Go ahead, Rob," he said.
Slowly he put out his large hand to gently take up a shred of mint-green. "That's Aunt Elmira," he said, and released the shred into Jeffrey's candle.
The names were confusing to Rob, though neither Jeffrey nor Phoenix faltered in their identification. After all it was obviously so-and-so's bit of wax, wasn't it? Bit by bit, Rob began to feel that there actually was a difference between the tiny shreds and glanced up to say so to Elmira --
Her eyes were closed, hands miming the insertion of each bit of wax, naming each shred before it went in; following each name with an unvoiced phrase or word.
Familiarity grew as the ritual went on; Rob began to feel as if he knew the people whose names were called, almost as if he recalled them from the last time they'd met. But, of course, that was impossible, he told himself. He couldn't have possibly met so many people by accident.
Yet still there was a little shiver in the air as each name was called, as if a small bit of attention--or of power--was somehow activated.
The last shred of wax--real beeswax, Rob was certain--was named by Phoenix as "Grand-uncle-Robert-or-whatever-his-name-really-was-Alkehine." Everybody laughed but Rob.
Elmira's laughter dimmed to a smile--tinged with sadness, Rob thought. "That's the last from Uncle Robert," she said. "He didn't make all that many candles. I'm sure he's proud to be part of your candle, Jeffrey."
"Wait!" came Jessie's voice from the stairwell. "Wait!"
She came clattering upstairs and huffing down the hallway.
"You forgot something, I bet. You've got a guest to think of!"
"Jessie," said Elmira, half smiling as the older woman entered the room, "How rude do you think we are?"
"Well, it wouldn't do for you to forget this guest. Isn't a matter of being rude!" She held out her hand, displaying several well-formed drops of deep brown wax. "The guest-candle dripped," she announced, to a stare from Jeffrey and a gasp fron Phoenix. "I caught some fresh wax for you."
Rob blinked at the dark droplets, absurdly pleased at the deepness of the brown; then he blinked again. "The guest candle? But the candle I lit was white!"
"Oh," said Elmira softly, smiling at him warmly. "Was it?" She took the wax beads and carefully slipped them inside Jeffrey's candle.
"Uncle Rob Davis," she said.
* * *
DINNER WAS AT nine o'clock and he was ushered into the dining room by a radiant Phoenix.
The branched candelabrum in the center of the table was blindingly bright. Rob picked out Uncle Tulaine's butter yellow, father's multicolored, mother's dark gold, Elmira's mist blue.
As he took his seat, Elmira came into the room flanked by Jeffrey and a bright-eyed old gentleman who could only be Uncle Tulaine. She was carrying a thick brown candle, which she placed with great care into the solitary empty branch. She closed her eyes a moment, and Rob thought he saw her speak an unheard word. The she smiled and looked directly at him.
"We have a large family," she said. "And it keeps getting larger. Slowly, but very surely."
First published in Pulphouse #19, 1995
About the Authors
Sharon Lee and Steve Miller have been making beautiful fiction together since 1984. Together, they built and maintain the Liaden Universe®, which now numbers ten novels, well over two dozen short stories, and is still expanding, as well as several other novels, and numerous science fiction and fantasy short stories.
Liaden Universe® novel Balance of Trade is winner of the Hal Clement Award for best Young Adult Science Fiction of 2004, while novels Local Custom and Scout's Progress received second and first prize, respectively, for the prestigious Prism Award given by the Fantasy, Futuristic and Paranormal Chapter of the Romance Writers of America. Scout's Progress was also named Best Science Fiction Novel of 2003 by the reviewers of Romantic Times Bookclub.
Sharon and Steve live in Central Maine with lots of books, four erratic muses in the form of cats, and a large cast of characters. They maintain a web presence at www.korval.com.
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