by J. P. Larson
I nodded. “Other than learning the more advanced spells, I feel inadequate when assisting a childbirth.”
“The midwives handle most cases. There aren’t remotely enough of us to really matter.”
“I know, but when I’m there, I want to be able to help.”
She nodded. “What else?”
“I’ve had some experience in healing trauma, but none healing extreme trauma.”
“What is the worst you’ve dealt with alone?”
“A hunting accident a year ago,” I said. “Fifty-year-old farmer took an arrow here.” I gestured to my shoulder. “In through the front and out through the back.”
“Are you sure it was an accident?”
“He and his wife both fired at the same deer,” I explained. “She missed. She was distraught, and she did all the right things before getting him to me. I knew them. It was an accident.”
Larpeen nodded. “Tell me what you had to do.”
I spent a few minutes explaining. It hadn’t been life threatening, barring the possibility of infection, and so the healing had been straightforward, although I’d had to repair the nicked tendons. That had been the hardest part, and I’d had to put the man to sleep to work on it. Larpeen listened attentively then nodded. “Good work,” she said.
“Thank you.”
She produced a list of spells. I skimmed it. “Tell me how recently you cast each of these.”
I looked through the list more carefully. I made marks next to a few, and different marks next to others. I handed it back to her and tapped one. “I probably haven’t cast these since I was last asked to.” I tapped another. “These I used heavily, and I’ve cast each of them, probably multiple times, during my recent sojourn with Eva. Of the rest, some I use rarely, some I nearly never use. But I made a similar list of my own, and I practiced weekly while I was gone, cycling through each of them. I didn’t want to forget any.”
She nodded. “Show me the ones you haven’t cast in years.”
“Some of them are replaced by more effective versions,” I said. “I’m not sure I remember them. I’d never use them if I have another available.”
“That is inefficient,” she said. “You should use the spell to get the job done. Using a more advanced spell when a simple one will do wastes magic.”
“The amount of magic available to me has only been a limiting factor when dealing with especially difficult healings, when I need my very best.”
She frowned. “If you are ever on a battlefield, you won’t say the same thing.”
“If I’m on a battlefield, I’ll be triaging what I do, and I find it unlikely I’ll be using apprentice spells.”
“You could find yourself in a campaign and tasked with keeping the people around you in top condition. In that case, you could find yourself healing a hangnail.”
I tapped the paper with my schedule. “If I can spend time refreshing memory of apprentice spells or learning magus spells, which do you think I should do?”
“You could have done half of those in the time we’ve talked about it.”
“That isn’t what we’re talking about. We’re talking about which spells I’m going to use when necessary.”
She sighed. “Please show me the spells, Kia.”
“Of course.” I did them, one after another. I literally hadn’t cast most of them in years, and twice I had to ask her to remind me. She put up her own versions. I glanced and said, “Right.” And reproduced my own copies without further reference to hers.
When I was done, she nodded.
We spent another hour reviewing my current abilities. I prepared another dozen spells for her, most of which took little time, but two that were longer. “All right. Good. Let us discuss teaching. Hmm.” She tapped the paper. “Teach me this spell.”
“As if you are an apprentice?”
“That is correct. Begin at the beginning.”
I’d already been teaching more complicated spells than this one. I built it in front of her, talking my way through it and working as slowly as I could. I asked her to study it for a minute, then asked if she thought she could duplicate it.
“I don’t know,” she said hesitatingly.
Right. “Let’s try it together.” I waved my copy away and began the first line. She did it wrong. “Wait. Put that away.” She dispelled her magic, hanging in the air, and I said, “You need to do this.” I put up the proper line. “This is what you did.” And beside it, I put up a line, twisted the way she had done hers.
Larpeen laughed. “I admit, I’ve never taught introductory spells, but I also don’t remember having my bad examples demonstrated beside the correct ones before.” She put up her bad method, and then I watched as it took her five tries before she put up the right magic, side by side like mine were. Her brow was furrowed, and then she waved them away and turned to me.
“You make that look easy.”
“You cast spells that require you to manipulate disparate magic,” I said.
“Still.” She did the right line. I walked her through it, and she made all the mistakes a new apprentice might make forming the spell. We had to start over several times, and it took a half hour to “teach her” the spell. When we were done, she told me I had done well and said, “Let’s try something more complicated.”
She wrung me out, but I thought I had acquitted myself well. But then I asked her, “Why are you doing this instead of Erin?”
“Because I wanted to get to know you, Kia,” she said. “Let’s go to lunch, and this afternoon we’ll talk about your classes.”
* * * *
I spent the next several days preparing to become a formal instructor at the college, in between working with Eva and Quartain. And then Oneday morning arrived.
“Good morning, Magus Erin,” I said.
“Adept Kia,” she replied. “Good morning. Nervous?”
“A little.”
“You’ll be fine. Let’s review your lesson plan, and then I am going to begin teaching you a new spell.”
“All right.” I sat down in the chair opposite her desk and slid a single sheet of paper to her.
“You’re starting with a quiz?”
“Yes,” I said, “Although I’ll give them a chance to ask questions first.”
She reviewed the rest and nodded. “Other instructors here might second guess you. I’m not going to. I imagine your instincts are better than mine. In the future, we’ll meet in my classroom. I’m going to put up a spell, and I want you to tell me what you think.”
It took her ten minutes, which wasn’t long for an advanced spell, but it began with six separate Mobius strips, interlinked in a ring. When it was done, it retained the linked shape, with a clear hole down the middle, a little wider than my spread fingers wide.
“What is it?”
“We call it a stitch.”
“I know stitches.”
“This one works in pairs, or sometimes more than pairs. If someone has an extreme trauma, you cast two of these, and they pull together.” She pointed. “There is a cutting board in that cabinet. Please bring it.”
I got up and retrieved the cutting board. When I turned, she had a knife and a large potato ready. It wasn’t the first time I’d cast spells on a potato. I set the cutting board down in front of her. She added the potato then used the knife to cut a large gash into it. Then she held the potato by one end and manipulated her spell around it. “You have to pull on it,” she said. “And it shrinks.” She demonstrated, and I watched the spell contract around the potato near her hand. At the last moment, it triggered, and I could see the spell grab hold of the potato.
She waved with her free hand, forming a duplicate of the spell: she had it at the ready. And then she moved the spell over the further end of the potato and collapsed it. The spell triggered, and then as I watched, the two spells pulled towards each other, pulling closed the gash in the potato.
“It takes a team of healers, and I have never personally done this
, but I have heard of amputated limbs being reattached in this fashion. The stitch holds the two ends together, and then other spells begin to knit the severed pieces. I have used this spell for lesser trauma.”
“Convenient,” I said. I stared at the potato for a moment then looked up at her. “Can you show me the beginning again?”
“Of course.”
* * * *
We worked until a few minutes before we each had to leave for our classes. Soon enough I found myself staring out at a group of eager faces wearing confused expressions.
“Good morning,” I said. “I am Adept Kia. Yes, you’re all in the right place. There have been a few changes. Magus Erin is teaching a small group of advanced journeywomen. For at least the next few months, you get me instead. As I understand it, your assignment for today was to read the first two sections of chapter six. Questions?”
One girl held up her hand.
“Yes. Stand up. Tell me your name, and then ask your question.”
She asked; I answered. It took a minute before she understood my explanation, and then she sat back own. Another hand went up.
Then there was a pause, and I was ready to declare the quiz, but then a hand went up, somewhat hesitatingly. “Yes?”
The girl stood. “I am Marcela,” she said.
“Pleased to meet you, Marcela,” I said.
She nodded. “Is it true what they say about you?”
I laughed. “Probably. What is it they say?”
“That you ran, and no one could find you.”
“Ah. Do the rumors offer an explanation for why I might have run?”
“Yes.”
“Do tell.”
“You didn’t want to join the army.”
“Anything else?” She shook her head. “All right. I’m not going to get into this. Yes, I ran. Yes, it was to avoid becoming a soldier. When I was a new student here, I remained with a promise I would never be forced to become a soldier, but it was during my adept exam I was given to believe that promise was going to be broken. So I ran. I couldn’t say that no one found me. I would say I eluded pursuit for a while, but Magus Eva eventually found me and brought me back.”
“Did you get into trouble?”
“I came to an agreement with the queen,” I said. “I am going to say this. I am not going to advise any of you on the wisdom of avoiding your duty to Ordeen. I didn’t want to leave, and the price to do so was very, very high. If I had it all to do over again, I would make different decisions.”
“What decisions?”
I shook my head. “I’m sorry. If you wish to discuss this further, I recommend you make an appointment with Senior Magus Quartain or Queen Hallamarie herself. Everyone in this room has a duty to the queen, and if you have a problem with that responsibility, I am not the one to talk to. Other questions?”
She put on a face for a moment, but she sat down. The rest of the girls sat quietly, and so I said, “Right. Pop quiz.”
“What?” they complained.
“Take out a piece of paper,” I said. “First question.”
There were only five questions, and I gave them time to answer. Finally I called time. “Exchange your paper with someone else.” One girl was left out, so I told her to trade with someone who had already traded. I then read the first question again and said, “Raise your hand if you are holding a paper with what you feel is probably the right answer.”
About half the hands went up, so I called on one of the girls. “Please stand up, tell me your name, not the name of whose paper you hold, and read the answer please.”
She read the answer, and I thought it was about half right and not technically wrong. I looked around the room. “How do you feel about that answer?”
The reactions were mixed, but then Marcela raised her hand. “Yes?”
She stood up. “That’s my answer,” she said. “Kata has my paper. I have Nicala’s. And I think her answer is a lot better than mine.”
“Please read it.”
So she did, and I nodded. “How does everyone feel? Better?” Better, they agreed. “Nicala, good. How many are holding papers with an answer similar to Nicala’s?” Only two hands went up. “How about an answer similar to Marcela’s?” More hands. I pointed to a girl who hadn’t lifted hers. “Do you have a different answer?”
She stood, told me her name, and read the answer. It had the points Marcela didn’t have, but didn’t have the points she did.
“All right. I want you to put a star beside the answer if it closely matches Nicola’s. Put a checkmark if it’s closer to the other two answers. Make no marks if it’s less.”
In that fashion, we went through all the questions. And then I collected the papers. I could look through them later. And I began the lesson.
* * * *
Teaching was hard!
* * * *
My afternoon class was botany. We were meeting in Iladarta’s classroom, but after this, we would use her greenhouse instead. I ran the class in a similar fashion to the morning class, but I brought dried examples of the plants we were discussing.
It was near the end of class that a hand went up. “Why are you teaching us, Adept Kia?”
“You would rather have Magus Iladarta,” I said. “I don’t blame you. She was my favorite teacher while I was a student. Unfortunately, you’re stuck with me.”
“But aren’t you a healer? Why are you teaching botany?”
I smiled. And then, in the space between us, I raised my magic, all plant magic, and I formed it into a tree, filling the classroom. “You were saying?”
All of them stared at it.
“Surely you’ve all seen some of my demonstrations. I haven’t done one in a few years, but you must remember from when you were initiates or novices.”
“But you didn’t use plant magic,” said the girl who had asked about me.
“No. I let it all mix together,” I said. “I am both a healer and a botanist,” I explained. “Would you like me to show you something?”
I was showing them something, but I had something else in mind. I dispelled my magic then held up one of the dried herbs I’d brought with me. “When we cook, we intentionally used dried herbs for some recipes, but much of the time, fresh is much more flavorful. Why do we dry them?”
“So they last through the winter,” someone said.
“Yes. So imagine it is late winter, but you would like fresh herbs. What can you do?”
“Wait until summer?”
“Or perhaps you can do this.” I formed a spell. I left it hanging in the air, and then I poured water into a glass. I dipped one end of the herbs into the water then triggered my spell against the dried plant. In seconds, and before their eyes, the herbs absorbed some of the water, and after a moment, I was holding herbs as fresh as if they’d been newly cut. I lifted them to my nose and sniffed.
“Ah, beautiful,” I said. I divided the herbs and passed them out.
I smiled and looked at the girl who had asked about my skills. “Have I answered your question?”
“Yes, Adept Kia.”
“I’ll add this. My grandmother began teaching me of herbs and the healing properties of plants when I was a very young girl.”
“I didn’t know,” she said, and I could see she was beginning to feel defensive.
“Of course you didn’t. It was a fair question.”
* * * *
Twenty minutes later I collapsed in a chair in my room at the top of the Journeywoman tower. Quartain was already there, and she smiled. “Rough day?”
“Teaching is hard!” I said.
She laughed.
“They’re so young,” I added. “How we must all look to you.”
“Young and earnest,” she said. “Unless you have questions, let us begin.”
I was sweating long before she released me.
* * * *
I met with Iladarta after dinner. She and I met in her greenhouse. We hugged, and she asked me how my day had been.
“Long,” I said. “I was wondering.”
“Yes?”
“Could I take some plants back to the house? I’ll have to give them back when we leave again.”
“Of course,” she said. “Take whatever you want.”
I paused. “Your yellowspike is doing poorly.”
“I know,” she said. She gestured, and so I led the way to a bed of low ground cover common around Lamore’s Holding. Grandmama swore by it as a cure for inflammation, and Iladarta had been trying to grow enough to experiment with it. I crooned to the plants for a minute then looked up at her.
“Lysia has sent me fresh plants every year for five years. At first, I kept them outside, but they withered over the summer and were dead well before winter. They’re doing somewhat better inside.”
“These won’t survive until spring,” I replied. “I could give them a boost.”
“I can force them to live,” Iladarta replied. “But I was hoping they could grow more naturally.” She shook her head. “I may give up.”
“They normally grow near rivers,” I pointed out.
“I’ve tried very damp environments. I’ve tried varying degrees of sunlight. I’ve tried varying types of soil.”
We discussed it for a few minutes. Finally I said, “Well, these are going to die. Do you know what you want to do?”
“I think I’m giving up,” she repeated. “Unless you have another idea.”
“Not really. I was going to give them a boost and then suggest we harvest them. I’d like to bring my students to help.”
“All right,” she agreed.
I paused only a moment, and then I began assembling spells. They were all simple. I wasn’t going to force the plants; I was only giving them a little more zest, so to speak. Some of what I cast were area spells, offering good health to the entire bed. Others were simpler, and I had to cast them once per plant. Once done, I watched them for a minute and then looked up at Iladarta. She was smiling. “I’ll do that for a week or two before we harvest them.” She continued to smile, and I said, “What?”
“I love watching you work,” she said. “I would never have done what you just did, especially as there’s nothing in those you can’t already do through your healing spells.”
