“So how was studying with Esrahaddon?”
“He was a completely different story,” she went on after another mouthful of wine. “When I couldn’t get what I wanted from Arcadius, I went to him. You see, all of Arcadius’s teachings involved elaborate preparations, alchemic recipes that are used to trigger the release of nature’s powers and incantations to focus it. He also stressed observation and experimentation to tap the power of the natural world. Arcadius relied on manual techniques to derive power from the elements, but Esrahaddon explained how the same energy could be summoned through more subtle enticement, using only motion, harmonic sound, and the power of the mind.
“The problem was Esrahaddon’s technique relied on hand movements, which explains why the church cut his off. He tried to talk me through the motions, but without the ability to demonstrate, it was very frustrating. Subtle differences can separate success from failure, so learning from him was hopeless. All I ever managed to do was make a man sneeze. Oh, and once I cursed Countess Amril with boils.” Hadrian poured the last of the wine into his and Arista’s cups after Royce waved him off. “Arcadius was angry when he found out about the curse and lectured me for hours. He was always against using magic for personal gain or for the betterment of just a few. He often said, ‘Don’t waste energy to treat a single plague victim; instead, search to eliminate the illness and save thousands.’
“So yes, you’re right. I’m likely the most tutored mage in all of Avryn, but that’s really not saying much. I would be hard-pressed to do much more than tickle someone’s nose.”
“And you can do that just with hand movements?” Royce asked skeptically.
“Would you like a demonstration?”
“Sure, try it on Hadrian.”
“Ah no, let’s not,” Hadrian protested. “I don’t want to be accidently turned into a toad or rabbit or something. Didn’t you learn anything else?”
“Well, he tried to teach me how to boil water, but I never got it to work. I would get close, but there was always something missing. He used to …” She trailed off.
“What?” Hadrian asked.
She shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s just that I was practicing gestures on the ride here and I—” She squinted in concentration as she ran through the sequence in her mind. They should be similar. Both the rain and the boiling spell used the same element—water. The same motion should be found in each. Just thinking about it made her heart quicken.
That is it, isn’t it? That is the missing piece. If I have the rest of the spell correct, then all I need to do is …
Looking around for the bucket that Hadrian had brought up, she closed her eyes and took several deep breaths. Boiling water, while harder than making a person sneeze, took a short, simple incantation, one she had attempted without success hundreds of times. She cleared her mind, relaxed, then reached out, sensing the room—the light and heat emanating from the candles, the force of the wind blowing above the roof, the dripping of water from their wet clothes. She opened her eyes and focused on the bucket and the water inside. Lukewarm, it lay quiet, sleeping. She felt its place in the world, part of the whole, waiting for a change, wanting to please.
Arista began to hum, letting the sounds follow the rhythm that spoke to the water. She sensed its attention. Her voice rose, speaking the few short words in a melody of a song. She raised a single hand and made the motions, only this time she added a simple sweep of her thumb. It felt perfect—the hole that evaded her in the past. She closed her hand into a fist and squeezed. The moment she did, she could feel the heat, and across the room steam rose.
Hadrian stood up, took two steps, and then stopped. “It’s bubbling,” he said, his voice expressing his amazement.
“Yeah, and so are our clothes.” Royce pointed to the pieces of wet clothing hanging on the line, which were beginning to hiss as steam rose from them.
“Oops.” Arista opened her hand abruptly. The wash water stopped boiling and the clothes quieted.
“By Mar, that’s unbelievable.” Hadrian stood grinning. “You really did it.”
Royce remained silent, staring at the steaming clothes.
“I know. Can you believe it?” she said.
“What else can you do?”
“Let’s not find out,” Royce interrupted. “It’s getting late and we’ll be leaving in a few hours, so we should get to sleep.”
“Killjoy,” Hadrian replied. “But he’s probably right. Let’s turn in.”
Arista nodded, walked behind the wall of blankets, and only then allowed herself a smile.
It worked! It really worked.
Lying on the little cot without bothering with a blanket, she stared at the ceiling and listened to the thieves moving about.