“Your distrust of Hanara is reasonable,” Dakon said. Jayan resisted the urge to sigh with exasperation. Isn’t he finished with this subject yet? he thought impatiently. “But I don’t quite understand the issue you have with Tessia.”
Jayan’s stomach lurched disconcertingly. “Tessia? I have no issue with her.”
Dakon laughed quietly. “Oh, it’s clear you do. Your dislike of her is as obvious as your distrust of Hanara. I’m afraid you aren’t good enough at hiding your feelings, Jayan.”
I ought to turn and meet his eyes, and state that I am happy that Tessia has joined us and look forward to many years of her company, Jayan thought. But not yet. He wasn’t ready. Dakon had surprised him.
“If I’m so bad at hiding my feelings, then shouldn’t it be obvious what my ‘issue’ is?” he countered. “Maybe you don’t understand because there’s nothing to understand.”
“Then explain to me why you sigh or scowl at half her questions, and listen to her lessons when you say you want to read, and ignore her unless she speaks to you directly, then give her the shortest and often least helpful response?” Dakon chuckled. “From the look on your face when she’s present, anyone would think she gave you a stomach ache.”
Jayan glanced at Dakon then looked away again, thinking hard. What possible explanation could he give? He certainly couldn’t tell Dakon that he resented every moment of time Tessia took away from his own training.
“She’s just so...so ignorant,” he said. “So slow – I know she’s learning fast but it doesn’t feel like it.” He grimaced, sure that his answer wasn’t clever or evasive enough. Make it sound as if you actually want her around for some reason. “It’s going to be a long time before we can have a conversation about magic, or practise together, or play a game, or... something.” Now look at him. He turned to face Dakon, meeting the magician’s eyes and shrugging helplessly.
Dakon smiled and turned to regard the track ahead of them, which was leading to a fence and a gate.
“Watching her must remind you of your own beginnings, of the awkward questions and failed attempts at magic, of mistakes and difficulties. You know,” he looked at Jayan again, “I’m sure she’d welcome your help. You’ve put her a bit on edge, but a little assistance now and then would reassure her. Not that you should try to teach her anything new entirely on your own.” Dakon grew serious. “Apprentices are not supposed to be teachers. It’s seen as an abuse of the magician–apprentice exchange of duties.”
Jayan nodded, hoping it looked like agreement and not a commitment. Their conversation ceased as they navigated the gate. Then, as they continued on their way, Dakon looked at Jayan expectantly.
“Promise me you’ll be nicer to Tessia.”
Jayan suppressed the urge to sigh in relief. It could have been worse. Dakon could have asked him to dedicate time to assisting Tessia.
“I promise,” he said. “I’ll be nicer to her. And try not to ‘put her on edge’, as you say.”
“Good.” Apparently satisfied, Dakon nudged Sleet into a trot. Watching his master moving away, Jayan surrendered to the sigh. Then he grimaced and urged Ember to follow.
If I am so easy to read, then I need to work on changing that. Perhaps I should think of Tessia as an opportunity to gain some skill in this area. After all, what’s a minor fault here in Mandryn could be a fatal weakness in Imardin.
He might as well try to gain some advantage out of the situation. It didn’t look as if Dakon was going to send her to another teacher. Tessia was here to stay, and he would just have to get used to it.
Tessia stared at the bowl of water and reached for magic. She felt her power respond, obediently, flowing out to take the form she wanted and going where she directed it. Bubbles welled up and burst, droplets splashing her. She flinched and rubbed her skin. Too hot.
Dakon had suggested she practise turning magic into heat by warming her washing water each morning. Using magic for everyday tasks was good practice and kept a magician’s mind sharp, he told her. Nevertheless, she could not help thinking that magicians were a lazy lot every time she saw him or Jayan using magic to open doors, or to fetch something from across a room.
She knew better now than to warm the water before washing, however. Her most common mistake in any magical task was to employ too much magic, and to begin with there had been a few mornings she’d had to wait for some time before the water cooled enough to use.
A knock at the door attracted her attention.
“Come in,” she called.
The servant, Malia, strode in, and glanced from the steaming bowl to the empty dishes from Tessia’s morning meal stacked on the desk. She moved towards the latter, taking the tray she was nearly always carrying out from under her arm. “Good morning, Tessia.”
Tessia rose and stretched. “Good morning, Malia.”
“Practising again?”
“Yes. Give the bowl a moment to cool down before you take it.”
“I will.” Malia chuckled ruefully. “Believe me, I won’t be ignoring your warning a second time. What are your plans for today?”
“Stables first.” Tessia picked up the small bag of bandages and salves her father had left for her to use when tending Hanara.
“Then lessons.”
Tessia headed to the door, then paused to look back at Malia. She had expected the servant to ask how Hanara was, but the woman said nothing.
“Malia, do you know how well Hanara is fitting in? What do the stable servants think of him? What about the villagers?”
Malia straightened from tidying the bedcovers and looked thoughtful. “Well, people generally find him a bit strange, but that’s expected, right? It would be weird if he behaved like a Kyralian.”
Tessia smiled. “Yes, it would be. And the stable servants?”
“They say he works hard enough – more than what he’s supposed to what with the mending he still has to do. They say he’s tough. Almost admiringly.” Malia hesitated. “But he keeps to himself and doesn’t always answer questions.” She shrugged, indicating that was all she had to convey.
“Thank you.” Tessia smiled and continued on her way. Thinking about what Malia had said, she decided things were going as well as anyone could expect for the former slave. He probably wasn’t used to friendly chatter, and it would take time for him to learn how to befriend people.
Leaving the house, Tessia crossed to the stables and slipped through the open door. Then she stopped, surprised by the scene before her.
Two of the stable servants were peeing into a bucket.
Before she could look away, the young men glanced up. Expressions of horror crossed their faces, and streams of urine veered from their intended paths – one across the trousers of the other – as they hastily covered themselves.
“Having a good look?” Birren jeered, recovering from his embarrassment enough to try to joke about it.
“Yeah.” Ullan followed. “Looked to me like she was checking us out. Impressed, were you, Tess? Want a closer look?”
She suppressed a laugh. The banter was typical of young men their age, and what she’d have expected in this situation – before she’d become an apprentice. She didn’t have the heart to increase their discomfort by reminding them she wasn’t Tessia the healer’s daughter any more. “I was wondering if it’s true that all boys get bigger when they get older. Didn’t look like you’d grown much since that time my father and I treated you two for... what was it again? Warts?”
They winced.
“We can make them get bigger,” Birren told her, grinning.
“You’d be scared.”
She snorted derisively. “I’ve seen much scarier things helping my father. Where’s Hanara?”
Ullan began a cheeky reply, but Birren stopped him with a low hiss, then nodded towards the end of the building. Hanara was sitting at a table, cleaning and polishing a saddle. She walked towards him. Harnesses and tools were lying nearby, waiting to be mended or cleaned. He looked up as she approached, and his frown faded a little.
Though the man’s face was typically Sachakan, broad and brown-skinned, it was quite different from his master’s. It was finer and more angled, youthful but scarred. She was glad of this, because while it was impossible not to think of Takado whenever she thought of Hanara, at least looking at the former slave did not stir unpleasant memories of his master’s face leering at her.
“I’m here to change your bandages,” she told him.