L. J. Amber
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TEWWBAD Chapter 20
🕑 Added 2025-02-20 13:00:07 +0000 UTCCHAPTER 20 – For Reason and Passion
When the tea was finished, and the wind stirred restlessly through the bushes, the apprentices stood and exchanged farewells. Celaena hugged Iolas and then Saphienne before she took their empty cups, and she departed to the teahouse with a promise to see them next morning.
Iolas walked with Saphienne toward her house, lengthening his stride to keep up with her as she floated through the groves. “You’re in a good mood.”
“I am.” She smiled brightly and twirled toward him, walking backwards. “We’re going to be wizards! Isn’t that a reason to be happy?”
The older child returned her smile. “Watch yourself! Today was only the first day.”
“But it was a good first day, and there’ll be more. A lot more.”
His smile broadened into a grin. “Yes. Today was a good first day, and there probably will be more– no, you’re right: there will be more, for sure.”
Saphienne gave him a bow as she faced forward again, repressing the urge to skip ahead through the trees. Her thoughts raced along without her. A few moments later, she fell back in step with him. “Iolas,” she said, “can I ask you a question?”
“Just ask.”
“Why do you want to be a wizard?”
He examined her with friendly suspicion. “Why do you want to know?”
“He asked me — our master. He said he’d make his decision based on my answer. I was wondering what you and Celaena told him.”
Iolas chuckled. “I could tell you what I told him, or I could tell you the real reason.”
Saphienne stopped walking. “You lied to him?”
“I didn’t lie. I just said it in a way he could read into… so he could think whatever he wanted to think about me.” He shrugged. “Knowing your audience, right? And if you don’t know your audience… sometimes, you need to keep your doors open for them.”
“What did you tell him?”
“A half-truth.” He gestured for her to catch up. “You remember I said my father was hurt? I told Al– I told our master that, the day I saw the priest heal my father, I realised I needed to know magic if I wanted to matter. That I knew I could spend all my years enjoying myself, writing beautiful things, but none of it would really make a difference in the end. So, never mind what I’d prefer to do with my time: I have to think about the future.”
Saphienne nodded. “What’s the full truth?”
“It’s not about me mattering… it’s about mattering to other people.”
“How do you mean?”
Iolas stopped walking then, and stared up at the branches. “We might live forever. You know that, right? Actually forever. Not all elves will — and it’s tragic to think about it, to know that someone could have lived forevermore, had they not gotten sick, or been hurt, and had it all cut short. Felled, senselessly.”
Saphienne waited beside him.
“I’d just really started to think about this when my father was injured. I’m not ashamed to admit how scared I was. I was afraid to lose him.” He had a strange smile on his face, as though he were both disturbed by the memory, but also relieved. “Then, just like that, my father was made whole. He was well again. Everything was suddenly going to be fine.”
He looked down at her. “I can’t really describe what that meant to me. To go from an ordinary day, to panic, to the horror of it all? And then for someone to whisper a prayer, wave their hands, and make everything better?” He shook his head. “If it wasn’t for that priest…”
“You don’t believe, though.”
“No. How can I? Why would the gods promise us immortality with one hand, only to threaten to take it away with the other? Either they’re cruel, or they’re not all-powerful, and either way… mindless worship really would be a lie.” He shook his head. “But the magic is real. And you don’t need to believe to use it, if you become a wizard.”
“So you can matter to people?”
“I want to make the same sort of difference to someone else.” He blushed, but his flush was very slight. “I want what I do to matter as much as what that priest did. I want to help people like just that, or in a similar way. And I want to help as many people as I can.”
He meant every word. Saphienne felt quite small next to him, and not just because the boy was taller.
“What about you?” Iolas gave her a smile. “Want to learn the secrets of the world?”
She shook her head. “I want to understand what makes us who we are. Makes anyone anything. I haven’t really figured it all out.”
He raised his eyebrows. “You don’t need magic to understand people.”
“You don’t need magic to matter to people.” She shrugged. “It just seems the most promising way, doesn’t it?”
Iolas conceded the point, and they resumed walking together.
* * *
As they arrived at the grove where Saphienne’s family home was found, Iolas gave her a bright smile. “I’ve been here before. We don’t live that far apart.”
“The village is only a few miles across,” she answered. “None of us live far apart.”
“Compared to Celaena.” He gestured back the way they had walked. “She lives on the western side, among the old growth. Not far from our master, actually, though within the village.”
“You’ve been to her house?”
He shook his head. “She just mentioned it in passing. She was surprised I lived out here. Does Faylar live in the same part of the village as she does?”
Saphienne didn’t know. “I’ve never been to his home.”
“She made a comparison in passing.” He went quiet as they walked up the slight incline toward the ridge where Saphienne’s family home was rooted. “Though… well, can I ask a personal question?”
“Personal? Ask what you want — I’ll think about answering.”
Iolas slowed his pace. “Are any of your family wizards? Or sorcerers?”
She hesitated. “…I don’t know. I’m not close to my father’s family. And I don’t know about anyone from my mother’s side. I don’t think so. Why?”
He paused, and mulled over what to say next. “If I share a thought with you,” he asked, “will you keep it between us? Can you keep it to yourself?”
Saphienne squinted at him. “If you like.”
“Celaena’s father is a wizard.” He looked around, made sure no one else was walking among the trees. “And she said Faylar has a relative who’s a wizard, too.”
“His aunt,” she confirmed. “That’s not a secret. She’s supposedly a better wizard than our master, but wizards aren’t allowed to teach family members.”
“I had wondered — whether I was the only one who didn’t have family who was already…”
“Why would it matter?” Saphienne asked. “Either you have the talent, or you don’t.”
“They stopped talking.” He shifted uneasily. “They haven’t talked since Faylar was rejected from apprenticeship. She started spending time with me instead. And the way they were to us on the first night…” Conflicted, he shook his head. “I’m probably reading into things. I told you, I can be stupid.”
Saphienne didn’t quite understand his concern, but she did think about Faylar. “It’s probably not what you imagine. I can see why she’d want to get to know her fellow apprentice, and she didn’t know about me until today. As for Faylar… he might be keeping his distance. He was friendly, when he thought I’d been rejected, but when he realised he was the only one refused, he almost ran away from me.”
Iolas was visibly relieved to hear it. “My thanks. Celaena has a temper, and can be petty when she’s annoyed, so I didn’t really think she was like that–”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know. Cold-blooded? Selfish? Only caring about wizardry?” He seemed morose. “I feel like a bad friend now, for wondering such things.”
“Wondering what?” She gave him a devious smile. “I didn’t hear anything.”
Slowly, Iolas smiled back. “Doesn’t change that I thought it. But thank you.” He made a show of looking around, and stretched his legs as he did. “So, which house is yours?”
Saphienne let the subject drop, and she turned to point to the top of the ridge. “It’s that one over– oh no.”
Dressed in heavy clothes, with a knitted bag slung over her shoulder, Saphienne’s mother had just emerged from the front door.
“Something wrong?” Iolas glanced between Saphienne and her distant mother. “Is that someone you don’t–”
“She’s my mother.” Saphienne sighed, and then grabbed Iolas by his sleeve. “Come on. We should hide.”
“What?” He went along with her as she strode toward thick bushes that grew around her neighbour’s home. “Why are we hiding from your mother?”
“I don’t want her to meet you.”
Iolas pulled his arm away, but he kept following her. He stared at her as they slipped behind the hanging branches into the dimmer, more open space beyond. “Saphienne,” he said quietly, “can I give you some advice?”
“I don’t need advice about family.”
“Not that.” He crouched down for comfort. “You might want to stop and consider what people will read into your words, when you say something like that. Someone might think, for example, that you’re ashamed or embarrassed to be in their company, if you don’t want to introduce them to your family.”
Saphienne froze. She blinked, and then again, and then a third time.
Silently, she knelt down next to Iolas. “That’s not it. That’s not it at all.”
He studied her face. “I thought so. But only wizards can read minds. Everyone else looks for clues about how the other person feels, what they think… and everyone reads between the lines. If you want people to feel welcome, you need to be careful what you show them, and what it implies you think about them.”
“I’m not embarrassed about you. Or Faylar.”
“I believe you. And that’s not the point.” He relented. “I’m not upset, I’m just trying to be direct, like you said you wanted.”
Saphienne bowed her head. “I’m sorry. Thank you.”
He peered out of the bush toward her house. “…What’s she doing, anyway?”
Moving closer to him, she followed his gaze. Her mother was rocking back and forth on the doorstep, eyes closed, her hands clenched tightly by her sides. As they watched, she finally took a quick, heavy step away from the door, followed by another, like she was fighting against a howling wind to make her way into the grove.
Saphienne’s mother managed about thirty paces, then turned and ran back to the door, scrambling into the house as though fleeing from a thunderstorm.
“…I don’t know.” Saphienne looked away from him. “She… doesn’t go out much.”
Iolas inhaled deeply. “I see. That must be hard, for you.”
“Not really, she just sits around all day–”
“I meant how she makes you feel. Embarrassed.”
Saphienne turned toward him so sharply that she nearly wrenched her neck. “Embarrassed? By her? I’m not embarrassed by my mother!”
Taken aback, he said nothing as she jumped up and pushed her way through the foliage, and he went after her with his mouth downturned.
“I’m not embarrassed by her.” Saphienne’s voice was no louder than before, but it darkened as she glared up at her family home. “I’m…”
“Saphienne, I–”
“You want to know how I feel?” She spun around, venom in her eyes. “I can’t stand her. She’s the second-worst person in the village. Third worst, when my father’s visiting. Nobody else knows her like I do. Nobody else should have to know her. It’s a good thing that she doesn’t go out much.”
He held up his hands. “Sorry! Please, calm down.”
She looked away, and her hand went inside her robe, to firmly clasp the pouch in her inner pocket.
Saphienne shut her eyes; her breaths felt tight in her chest.
Iolas kept quiet, unsure what to say.
“…I’m sorry.” She willed herself to mean it. “I should have said, ‘I don’t want you to meet her.’ But that could be read the same way, couldn’t it?” She returned to his uncertain gaze, and her eyes were cold emeralds. “And I know I’m acting like a child. I don’t mean to behave like this. She just… brings out the worst in me. Which makes me ashamed.”
“…And a little frightening…” He managed a weak smile. “Sorry, Saphienne. I didn’t mean to prick your skin.”
“You did nothing wrong.” She shook her head. “My mother’s just bad for people. I nearly shouted at Faylar when she met him, and… now I’ve shouted at you.”
Iolas looked over her shoulder, to the family home that very clearly wasn’t her home, not in any meaningful sense. He weighed up what to say; he seemed uncomfortable, but then resigned himself to whatever he thought about with a short sigh. “How about you meet me down here, tomorrow? So I don’t risk running into your mother.”
“You don’t have to–”
“Say yes. Just say yes.”
“…Yes. Thank you.”
Recovering his poise, he inclined his head. “Right, then. And don’t worry: you’re not alone in selective deafness. I’ll forget everything you said.”
“You can remember,” she managed, slouching as the anger drained away. “Just, please don’t hold it against me.”
“I wouldn’t. You must have your reasons.” He held up his hand. “Which I don’t want to know! Knowing you don’t get along with your mother is enough — and explains a lot, when I think about it.”
Saphienne wondered what he meant, but then and there was neither the time nor the place to ask. Instead, she gave him a formal bow. “Thank you, Iolas.”
“Don’t worry about it.” He bowed in return. “And… let’s not allow this to make things awkward. I’ll be here tomorrow, and we’ll carry on like before. That suit you?”
“Yes. I’d like that.”
“Good.” He took a deep breath, then blew it out slowly, and managed a firmer smile by the time he was done. “You don’t measure out your life by halves, do you, Saphienne?”
The expression made her think. “I don’t know that one. It’s an idiom? I’ve never read it before.”
“It means you throw yourself into things, wholeheartedly.”
“Oh.” She blushed as she thought about it. “I suppose so. For better or worse.”
Iolas grinned. “It gets easier. Trust me on that.”
She glanced up at him, puzzled, but he was already moving away.
“Good day, Saphienne; we had an interesting time.”
“Good day, Iolas.”
She watched him retreat toward the rest of the village, lonelier than before, but not so lonely as she had once been.
* * *
Her mother was in the kitchen, opening a bottle of wine. Saphienne watched as she poured herself a large glass, and saw the shaking in her hands.
“Saphienne!” Her mother finally noticed her. “I didn’t hear you come home – aren’t you meant to be having lessons with Gaeleath?”
“I’m going to see him once I change. I had my first lessons in wizardry today.” She glowered. “Not that you’d remember.”
“I thought that was–”
“Another day. Always another day.” She walked away, and started up the stairs.
“Saphienne?” Her mother called after her, worried. “Saphienne, my darling, I’m sorry, I just need you to–”
But Saphienne had already shut the door to her bedroom, and she covered her long ears with her robes as she stripped them off, taking her time so she wouldn’t have to listen.
* * *
By the time Saphienne emerged from her bedroom, her mother had climbed the stairs and gone into her own, and the eerie glow of the fascinator shone around the edge of her shut door. That suited Saphienne just fine, and she left without saying anything, making excellent time as she went through the forest to Gaeleath’s tent pavilion.
While Gaeleath was there, they weren’t hard at work when she arrived. Much to her surprise, the sculptor was pacing around three blocks of sandstone that they had brought in from outside, half-formed works that had been surrendered to the elements when they moved on to other projects.
“Saphienne!” They were pleased to see her. “Good timing. Your opinion, please.”
Gaeleath had never asked her opinion of their work before. Closing the tent flap, Saphienne walked up beside them, looking over the unfinished pieces. “What about?”
“Which should I complete?”
She glanced between the three. They were all large, broader and taller than an adult elf, and Gaeleath had roughly shaped them with song before cutting away the excess using hammer and chisel. None of the would-be statues were particularly easy to interpret. “They look alike to me.”
“Oh, come now,” the artist waved at her, “don’t pretend ignorance. What does your heart say about them?”
Saphienne studied them again. The one closest to her seemed like it might be the beginnings of a tree, and the next suggested a sitting figure. The last was perhaps two figures, arms entwined, caught in motion. “Why are you suddenly finishing one?”
“For the solstice festival.” Gaeleath sounded tense. “I really should have something ready by the time everyone visits — showing my work was one of the reasons I decided to come here.”
“Solstice festival?” She frowned, the phrase stirring a memory.
Gaeleath grinned. “Being held by the village. Perhaps you don’t remember? As celebrated in the eastern woodlands, the festival rotates through five villages, of which your fine village is the easternmost. You would have been– what age are you now? Fourteen? So you would have been nine, last time it was held here.”
Saphienne stared at the inscrutable shapes… and the shadow of the past swept over the glittering sandstone.
