"Comforting," I murmured. "What does 'smart' mean?"
"Most importantly, and I already told you this but I have to emphasize it, you must stay hydrated. He talked about the stages of dehydration for a magus, and Saxony"—she gave me an emphatic look—"it's serious."
"It's serious for everyone," I said. "People can only go three days without water. After that they're pretty much toast."
"Yes, but you have less time than that. Much less. You have about 16 hours before you die. Even that might be pushing it."
Less than a day. It wasn't a nice thought. But as long as I drank a lot, it should never be a problem. I resolved to carry a water bottle with me from now on.
Elda was studying my face intently.
"What?"
"Are you okay?"
"Yeah, I am. Just... processing." I stirred the tomatoes.
She was still staring.
"What?" I repeated, my hands wide.
She shook her head, "I know that you wouldn't have chosen this for yourself, Saxony. But..."
"But?"
"But, you're an amazing creature," she blurted. "I know there's pain, but from what Nic says, that gets easier to manage. The power that you have, you're basically a superhero. I kind of wish I was a magus. It always made me so afraid, because of what Isaia was going to have to deal with..." she looked like she wanted to say more, but she paused.
"But now that I have to deal with it instead of your little boy, you're all about the fireballs, is that it?" I said, sardonically.
She cracked a smile. "You make me sound like a horrible person. And I am sorry for your pain, if I could take it away, I would. But, you're strong, Saxony. You can handle this. It's kind of... a gift. Don't you think?"
"You try carrying a campfire around in your belly for a few hours and then ask me that again," I said, as I poured the steaming tomato sauce over the gnocchi. In spite of my sarcasm, I did understand what she was trying to say. I had a lot of power at my disposal, if I could just learn how to use it properly. "Let's focus. What else did he say?"
"Okay, so with the dehydration, he said there is sort of a steady progression of pain and an increasing lack of control over the fire. But after six, eight hours or so the fire begins to dry up and burn your tissues until..."
"Can we skip to the next part? I think I got the whole being roasted alive concept."
"Sorry, I thought you wanted every last word. Then, he talked about something called externalization. Externalizing means the fire will show through your body as a light, or it comes out in the form of flames, sparks, or smoke. He said the first step for a magus is to learn how to control the externalization of the fire. In the early years, he said there is always a fight for control. The fire is wild and you have to tame it, and this is more of an emotional exercise than a physical one."
I nodded—it made sense to me now that I've had to deal with it for several weeks. It was always harder to control when my emotions were running high. I layered the cheese over the gnocchi and put the casserole dish into the oven. "I think I understand that, too. So far, this is nothing new."
"Then, as you might guess, he also talked about internalizing it. Which just means that people on the outside can't see the fire. He said it is critical for a magus to reach this point for their own safety. The world is not really aware of the existence of fire magi, only a few select humans know about you. So, except for people you trust with your life, you need to keep your ability a secret."
"Kind of obvious, thanks Nic," I said. "Go on."
"Internalizing means that you can control the fire well enough to use it within your body to give you strength and speed when you need it. Sort of like..." she paused, thinking. "I'm trying to translate it with the right word..."
"Detonating it?"
"Si, perfetto: detonation." She put a pot on the stove and lit the burner. She dumped a piece of butter in to melt. "He said that the simplest way to learn this is to make one detonation at a time and in one part of the body at a time. For practice, he suggested detonating it in your shoulder when you skip a stone out to sea. But he explained that eventually you'll be able to detonate the fire in multiple places at once and with rapid succession. For this he said to start by running and detonating in your hips, to practice alternating quickly back and forth and to increase your running speed.”
Okay, so that bit was new and interesting.
Elda continued, "He said that one of the best things he did to learn how to control his fire was take a martial arts class. He started just learning the movements, eventually adding detonations in his joints and soon he was able to detonate with every single movement. You can imagine how powerful you would become if you were to master this."
"I can, but I sure hope I don't need to have to use it that way. If I do, then it means I've got enemies," I said.
It sucked enough to butt heads with Dante; I didn't want to make a habit out of it.
"Everyone has enemies, Saxony," Elda said as she stirred chopped onion and herbs into the sizzling butter. "You are young, but give it time."
"So cynical. You sell blush for Pete's sake—what kind of enemies do you have?"
"Not the kind that need to be beaten up, thank goodness. But retail is a bloodbath, metaphorically speaking." She poured some water and then white wine into the pot and added the steaming basket.
I had to laugh. "That sounds a bit ridiculous, but okay."
She smiled and went on. "That was it about the fire itself."
It wasn't much to go on, but I felt a bit better armed than before.
"He said that he doesn't know a lot about the history of the fire magi, where they originated or how many there are. There were rumoured to be scrolls about the fire magi in the library at Alexandria, but those were supposedly destroyed. Poor guy was raised in an orphanage with no one to teach him about himself. The nuns who raised him told him that when his father dropped him off as an infant, they saw a strange birthmark on the side of his father's face, like a tiny flame."
"His dad left him at an orphanage, even though he was probably a fire magus? That's cold."
"His father told the nuns that Nic wouldn't live very long and then vanished. So I guess his dad thought he was doomed," explained Elda as she poured the mussels in the steaming basket to cook.
"I'm going to bet it was a bit of shock to the ladies when his eyes started glowing red and fire spouted from his fingertips."
Elda smirked. "Yeah, I wish I'd asked him more about how he managed to survive childhood in an orphanage run by nuns."
"By the way, my mark showed up," I said as I took plates down to set the table.
"Davvero?" Her eyes scanned my body anywhere that I had skin showing. "Dové?"
"Here." I lifted my bare foot and showed her the tiny flame shaped mole on the third toe of my left foot. She bent to look at it. "Bella," she said, with wonder in her voice. "I wonder if Isaia's will disappear now that he doesn't carry the fire anymore?"
"I've no idea, watch it and see." I took the plates to the table. Pietro would be home tonight and it would be one of the few times all of us would eat together. My mouth watered at the smells that filled the kitchen.