“I teleported, of course. I’ve mapped out most of the local ley lines, and I followed the ones that go the farthest in a single jump, while getting me there reasonably quickly. It took me two days to get there, and two days back.” Marin told Emonael, her tone scolding. “I’ve told you this was possible, you know. As to why, well, if we’re going to have a proper Midwinter dinner, I thought I might as well treat you and the others to something exotic and special.”
“I suppose. I’m just startled. You’re the one who was always grumbling about having other people making sounds around the tower, yet now you’re planning to feed them?” Emonael asked, a distinct note of playful skepticism in her voice as she crossed her arms. “I’m beginning to think this is a case of you protesting too much.”
“I’m old and stubborn, but even I can change my mind, Emonael. At first, I wasn’t happy that you were bringing other people into my home and disturbing the silence, but that was only at first. I’ve been alone for a long, long time . . . you were the first consistent company I had in ages, but even you have to admit that a demon isn’t the same as a mortal in that regard,” Marin said, sighing as she leaned against the counter. “It’s been pleasant, even if I have snapped from time to time. Christoff nearly destroyed one of my sculptures!”
“It was an accident, and he apologized. It’s fortunate he didn’t, though,” The demon replied. “But you’re right about them being very different than me. In some ways, you and I are too similar. We’re both far older than we look, after all. I’m beginning to think I’m a little older than you, actually. It’s hard to say, time isn’t as easy to track in the lower planes.”
Marin snorted, reaching up to grab a lock of her hair, pulling it forward to examine critically. There were far more strands of white to it than she cared to think about, so she smoothed the lock back again as she spoke, her voice desert-dry. “You might say that, though you’re the one who doesn’t age. Every time I look in the mirror, it’s a reminder that my time’s running out. It’d help if you didn’t try to encourage it, shameless tease that you are.”
“You enjoy it, Teacher,” Emonael shot back, grinning. “So, what did you bring back for Midwinter?”
“You’ll see soon enough. Two days is more than enough time to get everything ready.” Marin replied, shivering again. “In the meantime, I need to get changed. I thought I’d dressed warmly enough for coming back, but obviously I hadn’t. Thank you for keeping the tower heated, Emonael. It would’ve been most unpleasant if it’d been cold when I returned.”
“You’re quite welcome, Teacher.” Emonael replied, and stepped out of the way, holding open the door for Marin.
Shaking her head, the High Mage headed for her bedroom, hoping that one of the robes would be enough to help. She didn’t dare use too much magic at the moment, not with how much she’d already expended during the trip back. The last thing she wanted was to pass out.
“Is the rest of the Association doing anything for Midwinter?” Marin asked, pausing in the midst of slicing up the exotic fruits she’d brought back with her.
“I think most of them are joining the celebration in Maple Lake, and wonder of wonders, none of them caught wind that we were doing anything,” Uthar replied, kneading the dough for the crust as he eyed the fruit greedily. “I’m not sure on the other High Magi, though.”
“Valis said that Reesa brought in a deer, and he’s going to be roasting it. I think they’re going to be getting together for dinner and doing some drinking,” Emonael said, smiling at the two as she worked on her own dish. “So what’s that called, anyway?”
“It’ll be something called a cobbler, made with a few of the more exotic fruits I’ve encountered,” Marin murmured. “Starfruit, fireberries, and corrallas. It should be the right mix of sweet and tart.”
“I don’t suppose there’ll be any fruit left over when you’re done? I’d love to try some of them uncooked,” Damiya asked hopefully, and Emonael smiled as Marin laughed.
“I brought back enough for the entire recipe, and about two pieces of fruit for each of you. Closer to twenty fireberries each, because they’re so much smaller, but rest assured, you can try them outside the cobbler itself,” Marin replied calmly.
“Good. I expect that’ll keep anyone from trying to steal samples while you make it,” Emonael teased, grinning in Marin’s direction. “You realized that bringing fresh, tropical fruit was a nearly irresistible temptation, didn’t you?”
“Ah, so you’re the one who made off with a starfruit last night? I’ll be sure to remove it from your share of the fruit,” Marin retorted, unable to suppress a smile of her own at the betrayed look on Emonael’s face.
“I . . . that isn’t fair, Teacher! You left the bag just hanging there in the pantry!” Emonael protested, her plaintive tone prompting a series of laughs from the others.
“You saw me hang it there, so you knew better. All actions have consequences,” Marin chided, shaking her head, then glanced over at Nia. “How’s the goose coming, Nia?”
“It’s looking pretty good, High Mage,” the young woman replied, sitting cross-legged in front of the tiny window into the iron stove, looking fascinated. “This spell is amazing, though. I didn’t know you could make a spell do something like this.”
Marin smiled in response. The spell in question was designed to produce heat of a specific intensity, and when she put extra mana into it, it didn’t increase the heat, instead extending the duration of the spell, effectively being released over time. After a moment, she spoke to Uthar. “Uthar, if you’d roll the crust out flat, and put it into the pan there? The second ball of dough is for the top.”
“Of course.” Uthar told her, quickly starting to do as she asked. “I’m looking forward to this.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” Marin told him, then looked back to Nia, setting her knife aside. “As for the spell, creating it is a bit more difficult than most spells, but it truly isn’t that hard. It’s in the more advanced aspects of spell research, so you won’t be learning how to do it from the first three volumes of the codices, but I’m sure you’ll get to that point eventually. It amuses me that the mage I learned the spell from didn’t use it for cooking at all.”
“What did he use it for?” Andrew asked, sitting back and relaxing, having already set the table and finished the salad with Christoff’s help.
“She used it for two things. It was a fair distance to the north . . . the community I visited built their houses a little bit raised, with a large, enclosed space beneath the house. At one end of the house exterior they had a fire pit that vented into that space, and at the other end it rose into a chimney to get rid of the smoke. They used it to heat the house through the floor,” Marin explained, continuing on the meal as Uthar finished with the crust. “Tara used the spell instead of wood. She also used it in firing ceramics. I actually learned a fair amount from her as an herbalist . . . she wasn’t much more than a hedge witch.”
“Did you travel the entire world, High Mage?” Christoff asked, looking a bit thoughtful. “From the way you talk about things, it seems like it.”
“Oh, of course not! The four continents are enormous, don’t get me wrong, but despite that, I’ve heard rumors of distant lands across the sea to the east or west. Even though they’re little more than rumors, I’m certain that there must be some truth to them. As for the continents, I’ve been across all of them, but I can’t say I’ve traveled the entire world.” Marin replied quickly. “The world is vast, and some places are too dangerous to go. Like the strange cavern complexes where monsters seem to enjoy dwelling . . . those labyrinth-like places were something I personally avoided.”
“I’ve heard of those!” Uthar exclaimed, stepping away as Marin put the top on the cobbler. “Some people say that the monsters there are part of the structure, somehow, but that they’re really rich in magic, and you can find potent magical ores and the like.”
“Yes, that sounds about right. But is the reward
worth your life?” Marin asked, raising her eyebrows at him, glancing at Andrew as the young man’s eyes lit up with greed. “Remember, that’s what you’re risking when you go into one of those caverns. For me, it simply wasn’t worth the risk.”
“Fair enough,” Uthar admitted, and Emonael nodded firmly.
“Always remember that, all of you. Don’t throw away your life without thinking. Yes, sometimes you have to take risks, but think about it first,” Emonael told them. “And always, always have an escape route.”
“As you say,” Damiya nodded, but paused and grinned. “More importantly, when’re we going to eat?”
“Not much longer. The goose should be about done, and we can start while the cobbler is cooking,” Marin replied, washing her hands and smiling. “I must admit, this is more work than I remember it being.”
The others laughed softly, to her amusement, considering how stiff and nervous they’d been with her at first. How things had changed.
Dinner went well, Marin thought. Nia’s seasoning of the goose had been excellent, in particular, and everyone had exclaimed in happy surprise when Marin brought out the fireberry cordial, enjoying the liqueur’s delicate flavor with the meal, though she didn’t let them have too much. The cobbler had been devoured down to the last crumb, and then it was time for the exchanging of gifts.
Most of the gifts were mundane and simple, like the new pair of boots which most of the young magi had pooled money to have made for Uthar, or the new tunic for Andrew. Marin was amused that they’d gifted her with a carefully painted wooden sculpture of a hummingbird, which she set on the side table, then brought out a box, covered by a blanket.
“It’s my turn, I believe. I have a number of gifts, all items I found over the years. You’d best not expect anything like these next year,” Marin said, and looked at Andrew, smiling as she said, “Andrew, if you would?”
“Me? Of course, High Mage!” Andrew quickly stood and approached, blinking in surprise, and looking slightly nervous. Marin reached into the box and found the present she’d selected, pulling out an old silver ring, the intricate surface tarnished but the bright blue lapis lazuli atop it shimmering in the candlelight.
“This was a gift from Archmage Ode Stormtower when we parted ways. A ring which he used when he was young, the stone can hold a tithe of mana, and is water aspected, aiding in casting spells of that element,” Marin explained to them, holding it up as she looked Andrew in the eyes, seeing the shock in them as she continued. “This is not a powerful aide, Andrew. It’s minor at best, and mostly sentimental in value. However, Ode was human himself, and I believe that he’d like you to have this. I believe that you can become a master magi . . . please prove me wrong, and become even more than that.”
“I . . . I don’t know what to say, High Mage. This is . . .” Andrew floundered, his eyes huge.
“It’s a gift,” Marin interrupted, pressing the ring into his hand. He stepped away, staring at it as Marin looked at the next student. “Nia, if you would?”
“If you insist, High Mage, but I really don’t need anything.” Nia told Marin, but she stood eagerly, the light in her eyes bright.
Ignoring her words, Marin reached into her box, then paused, her voice gentle. “Nia, you have an excellent talent for magic, but you’re too impulsive, and sometimes too confident in yourself. When you should pause to consider, you rush ahead, heedless of the consequences. Fortune may favor the bold, but many of the bold end up unfortunately among the dead. Thus, I am giving you something I was given by the dwarves of the Emperor’s Teeth.”
She pulled out a pair of bracelets, each wide bands of burnished brass, prominent runes carved into their surfaces. Marin held them up, brushing them gently as she continued. “These bracers are enchanted to protect the wearer. It’s only a minor thing, of course . . . arrows slightly change course, and blows are slightly repelled, but it might be all the difference when you rush in. But more than that, when you feel the weight of them, remember that you should pause and consider before rushing into danger.”
“Thank you, High Mage. I’ll try to remember your advice, and be a bit more cautious.” Nia said, taking the bracelets and running her fingers over the runes for a moment before slipping them on. The look of contemplation on her face made Marin feel much better, hoping her advice would be taken to heart.
“Good. Christoff, please?” Marin asked, and the young man stood, looking oddly solemn as he approached her.
“High Mage. I’m not sure what you’re going to give me, but . . . I have no words. I never expected anything, after our first meeting,” Christoff said, his voice almost grave, and Marin couldn’t help a smile.
“You had no idea what I was doing, Christoff. I never took offense at the shallow reasons for your visit. But I must admit that deciding on a gift for you was somewhat more difficult than for the others. In the end, I chose something perhaps a bit too simple,” Marin told him, removing a pouch from the box and looking at it, sighing. “When I went to the southern continent, I saw a bush that produced the most beautiful crimson flowers, each more than a handspan across. I gathered seeds for them, only to learn that they tend to only grow in the right places, and for the right people. These are the seeds, Christoff. May they grow for you, and bring beauty and serenity to your life, for that’s what I believe that you seek.”
Christoff’s mouth opened, then closed again as he looked at the pouch, then gently took it from her hand. Only then did he give a deep bow, shaky and informal but sincere despite that. Marin smiled and nodded to him, letting him get back to his chair by the crackling fireplace before looking at Damiya, who stood.
“Me next?” Damiya asked, and at Marin’s nod she approached, saying, “I really don’t need anything, High Mage . . .”
“No, you don’t. You are level-headed and persistent, and have a good talent beside that. You will go far without any of my instruction or advice, for Emonael has set you on the path you need to follow,” Marin agreed. “However, due to your talent with fire and earth magic, I feel that this belongs with you.”
She pulled out a simple, pitted orb of iron several inches across, the surface gleaming with a variety of colors. Damiya blinked at it, then asked, “What is it, High Mage?”
“This is metal from the heart of a fallen star. Forged by the fires of the heavens as it descended to the earth, it resonates with both fire and earth magic. If anyone can draw inspiration from it, or find a particular use for it, it’ll be someone like you,” Marin told her, and smiled as she heard a soft gasp from Emonael. “It’s also incredibly valuable simply due to what it is. I dearly hope you won’t sell it out of a desperate need for gold, though.”
“I won’t sell it. I promise you that,” Damiya said, taking the piece of iron and nearly dropping it. Marin grinned as she exclaimed. “Oh! This is heavy!”
“It is. Uthar?” Marin asked, shooing Damiya away. “I’m almost done; you’re the last. Emonael already got her gift.”
“As you wish, Milady. I must say that at this point my curiosity is well and truly roused,” Uthar admitted, unfolding from his seat next to the fire and approaching her. “I just wonder what you have in mind for me.”
“I’m no lady, and you’ll find out momentarily. Do you play the lap harp, Uthar?” Marin asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Passably, High Mage,” Uthar replied, looking curious. His eyes widened as Marin pulled out a harp, the wood of the frame ancient—dark wood that was worn—but the silver strands strung on it gleamed like new. He took a breath, then let it out, letting Marin speak.
“Excellent, you knew I would explain,” Marin murmured, smiling broadly. “This, Uthar, is the harp which I learned to play in the conservatory some five centuries ago. This is the harp which I used when I figured out how the tones were what truly mattered for spells, not the words. I’ve kept it all this time, but I’d rather it went to someone who would use it.”
“That . . . to be entrusted with an item of such signifi
cance is a true honor, High Mage,” Uthar said, his hands trembling as he took the harp from her. When he plucked a string, Marin smiled at the sound, glad she’d taken the time to tune the harp beforehand. If he’d tested it and the sound had been poor, she would’ve been quite dismayed.
“The harp isn’t the most valuable item I possess, but I knew it was the one that would mean the most to you, Uthar. You’ll use it. You’ll appreciate it,” Marin said, setting the box aside with a sigh. “I’ll admit, most of the items I have left are more of sentimental value than anything else. Much of my wealth has gone into the Association and into supplying my research. That’s not to say I’m poor, just . . . that things don’t mean much to me. What they mean is more important to me.”
“Well, that might take a bit of the wind out of my sails, Teacher,” Emonael retorted, pulling out a package of her own, a bundle wrapped in cloth that was held shut with a bit of twine. “I have a gift for you, after all.”
“That it’s from you means something, Emonael. You know that,” Marin replied with a laugh, feeling somewhat amused.
“Perhaps so, but I hope you like what I got you,” Emonael said, an uncharacteristic note of nervousness in her voice as she offered Marin the package.
“I’m sure I’ll like it,” Marin replied, settling back and examining the package. It felt mostly soft, but there was something hard within it as well. After a moment, she began to unwrap it carefully.
The twine came undone easily, and as she unfolded the cloth, Marin’s eyebrows rose slightly as she saw the deep green wool, with intricate crimson embroidery. She slowly unwrapped the copper mug, setting it aside with a glance of interest, but mostly focused on the robes as they unfolded.
Marin had plenty of sets of robes, but never had she seen a set so perfectly tailored to her, and the thick wool was perfect for the winter months. The robes would be snug, and the embroidery was surprisingly intricate, reminding her of the symbols that spells were made up of.
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