Quiet Magic (6 page)

The door to the outside thumped open,
admitting a roomful of pale sunlight and the Master himself, arms
full, eyes smiling.

"Good morning, child." He greeted her,
stopping on the top step and looking down at Petrie and the
puppybreeze. "Made a friend, I see. Well done. Now..."

He look around, puzzling, and Petrie
scrambled out of his way. The breeze stayed where it was, tail
wagging madly, grinning in canine glee. The Master bestowed a smile
upon it and stepped over the tumbled blankets. The door shut itself
behind him.

Moving to the couch-bed, the Master
emptied his arms and began to sort through his bundles. "This is
for you, child; and this, and these..."

Petrie put out her hands to receive a
shirt of pale green cloth, soft against her fingers, a pair of
darker green pants. A pair of sturdy boots completed the
outfit.

"And oranges for breakfast,
fresh-ground coffee, fresher rolls, sweet butter..." The Master's
voice drifted to a mumble as he gathered up the foodstuffs and
moved to the kitchen. Petrie stood as one bespelled, holding her
fine new clothes.

The Master came to her side and put a
hand on her shoulder. "Would you care to wash yourself and dress
while I brew coffee and peel oranges? There is a shower stall
around the back of the wagon. Your new friend will guard you, if
you like."

Petrie shook herself and looked up
into his eyes. "These things..." She stammered into silence; forced
herself to begin again. "What if I don't have the Will--or the
Talent? What if I'm not fit to be--your apprentice? What if --
?"

The kind hand on her shoulder
tightened; she understood it as comfort and again fought
tears.

"Petrie. Listen to me, eh?" He waited
for her nod. "Now. These things, as you call them, are free-given
gifts. There is no reason why you should want for adequate clothing
when I have the means to provide you with better. It has little to
do with whether or not you will pass the test. They are yours,
whatever happens." He paused, brows pulling slightly together. "As
to whether you have the Talent--fear not. The wind that drove the
crowd from the tent last evening--do you remember?" Again, he
waited for her to nod.

"Yes. That was not of my calling,
Petrie, nor did it have the feel of a servant of the left-hand way.
It was your wind, child, so do not fear you lack the Talent. The
Will is harder to judge. That is why there must be a
test."

He moved his hand from her shoulder
and reached into his pockets, producing a tortoiseshell comb, an
ebony brush and a silver rectangle of mirror. "These are yours, as
well. Go now and have your shower. Breakfast will be ready when you
return."

Clutching her gifts to her, Petrie
nodded, then turned and followed the puppybreeze out the door and
down the steps. At the bottom, she stood still, letting the
thoughts race through her head until she could see the pattern they
made. Then she forced her feet to move and went after the gamboling
puppybreeze, around the far end of the wagon to the shower-stall on
the other side.

* * *

SUNSET CAME QUICKLY, indeed, for one
used to days filled with chores and prayer. Petrie ate two meals
with the Master, did such straightening and dusting as there was,
much to the man's secret amusement, and spent the rest of her time
out in the sunshine, always within sight of the wagon, the
puppybreeze at her side.

"Stay close, child. They're looking
for you in the town." He'd told her that at breakfast, watching as
she stuffed whole segments of orange into her mouth at once. Petrie
hadn't asked if the townfolk had noticed him buying clothes for a
girl of about her height. He was Master of the Winds. Common
blunders were beyond him.

She echoed that thought to herself
now, as she sat on a grassy rise a short distance from the wagon,
the puppybreeze seemingly asleep with its head upon her knee.
Master of the Winds--he would know his own servants, surely; would
certainly know if he had called such a one. Would even know,
through his studies, how an evil--a left-hand--wind would seem.
Petrie frowned, her hand slowing in its gentle rubbing of the
little breeze's ear. The pup sighed in its sleep. If it had been
her wind, it did her little good. She did not know how she had
called it to her. In the event of such a test as the Master spoke
of, a wind she did not know how to command was as useless as no
wind at all.

The shadows were deepening; in another
few minutes, the sun would be well down. The pup at her knee
suddenly sprang up, flinging itself skyward. She felt a cool breeze
brush her cheek, smelled vanilla and ozone--and she was
alone.

A twig cracked in the brush at her
back and she jumped to her feet, turning toward the noise. The
brush crackled again and Authberk stepped into the
clearing.

Petrie felt some measure of fear leave
her, to be replaced by wariness, by something approaching
horror.

Authberk barely gave her a glance as
he pushed by, heading for the wagon. Fighting her revulsion, Petrie
followed, caught up, kept pace. They reached the bottom stair
together as the door to the wagon opened. The Master was in the
doorway, black cloak settling about her shoulders. He motioned them
to stop.

"The lesson this evening will be given
outside." He gestured, pacing deliberately down the steps. "Over
there, I think."

Petrie and Authberk gave way, moved to
the spot indicated, avoiding each other's eyes. The Master was with
them in a moment, smiling at both.

"First, you will learn the technique
that enables a Master to remain centered in himself, so that he
does not lose his core of identity, no matter how strong the forces
he fights." He looked first at Petrie, then at Authberk, his brown
eyes stern.

"This lesson is most important of all
the lessons you will learn, in this or another study. Mastery of
this skill depends upon Will more than Talent. Thus you learn that,
in the reckoning of mages, Will alone is counted more dangerous
than Talent. Talent backed by disciplined Will is a power to give
pause to any Mage or Master." He looked only at Authberk, now. "For
there comes a day that even the strongest Will wavers, my son. Do
you understand me?"

Authberk nodded, the fire glittering
deep in his dark eyes.

The Master sighed, then spread his
arms wide, the cloak leaping back over his shoulders. In each open
palm, he held a gem, red for the left hand, blue for the right.
Each gem gave off its own glittering light, scintillant in the
darkening glade.

"Boy," said the Master, "look to the
red stone. Do not take your eyes from it. Child -- " But Petrie had
already fixed her eyes on the blue gem, though the light from it
hurt her head.

"This, then, is how it is done, my
children..." The Master's voice came from a far away, fading into
the blue that was all around her, that permeated her. Floating in a
warm sea of azure light, Petrie felt something enter her skull,
even to the depths where the truth was always told her. She felt
the something enter that deep part of her and--twist. Petrie
screamed, or tried to. Within the blue there was no
sound.

Then it was gone, over. She stood on
her two feet upon the grass not ten feet from the Master's wagon.
She sensed the boy standing to her left. The Master himself stood
before them, unsmiling, cloak concealing his hands.

"So." He nodded, once. "Sit. There
will be refreshments. Then a test." He turned to the swaying boy.
"My son, you should know that this test will determine whether your
studies with me can continue. There are three possible outcomes.
One is that you alone will pass. In that case, you will become my
apprentice and learn all that I can teach you.

"The second possibility is that you
both will pass. In this instance, I will take responsibility for
seeing that you are situated with a Master of like persuasion." He
paused, looking deeply into the boy's fierce eyes.

"The third possible outcome is that
you will fail, my son. If that should happen, I will send you home.
Before I do, however, I will ask you once again to look into a
gemstone that I have. When you do, the desire to envelop the Power
will leave you. The Sight will remain, as a source of delight to
you only. I have found it less cruel that way." He extended a hand.
"Now, do sit down, please."

Petrie followed the command, her legs
suddenly rubbery. But the boy remained standing, hands clenched
into fists as his sides. "And her? What if she fails?"

The Master tipped his head. "Much the
same. However, since she has no home to return to, I shall take
responsibility for finding her one. Is this
satisfactory?"

The boy nodded jerkily, then, as if
his legs would no longer hold him, he collapsed to the
grass.

The Master turned toward the wagon.
Through the open door came a tray laid with cheese and bread,
orbiting which was a pitcher filled with milk and three yellow
glasses. Petrie leaned forward, finding the pale outline of a wind
that reminded her of the picture of Octopus in the orphanage's
Bestiary.

The tray settled between the three of
them; the milk was poured and handed around. At a nod from the
Master, the wind removed itself to the wagon, bearing the pitcher
with it. The Master sat cross-legged upon the grass.

"Eat."

This evening even Petrie had no
appetite and the meal was soon done. At a gesture from the Master,
the octopus-wind reappeared and cleared away the tray and
glasses.

The Master stood, motioning Petrie and
Authberk to do the same.

"Now the test," he said, voice stern
and not at all warm. "I will cause winds to come against you. You
will not try to control them, only to withstand them." He went a
long step backward, his cloak snapping back over his shoulders in a
sudden gust. "It begins!"

Petrie saw the stormwind hurtling
toward her from the Master's out flung hands. A lean black cat
shape it was, open mouth showing teeth like icy daggers. Petrie
braced herself, felt the weight of it crash into her, rocked--and
held. She barely had time to see the next one--like Elephant in the
Bestiary--before it hit her. The third she never saw at
all.

In the end, all she could do under the
onslaught of wind after wind after wind, was retreat to the depths
of herself and chant, like no prayer the nuns had ever taught her,
"I am Petrie. I am Petrie. I am Petrie. I AM -- "

Windlessness. Petrie dared to open her
eyes. The Master stood before her, cloak shrouding him, taffy brown
eyes smiling. With difficulty, she turned her head. Authberk sat on
the grass. There were tears on his white cheeks.

Petrie turned back to the Master,
brows pulling together in amazement. "I--did not fail?"

"You did not," the Master
said.

"But--I did nothing. I can --
"

He shook his head, the smile in his
eyes touching his lips. "You held."

Their eyes touched for a moment, then
the Master broke contact and moved toward the boy.

"Authberk."

He looked up, flinched back in what
might have been terror. The Master held up a restraining hand, but
Authberk hurled himself to his feet.

"No!" he cried. "I won't look! You
can't make me forget! You won't take it away! I'm strong! I can
call--Look!"

Petrie heard it coming, spun to the
north and stared up into the sky where--something--was building.
Something... A monster wind, black and nearly shapeless, its maw
drooling sleet. The grass in the glade flattened in its wake; the
curtains in the wagon twisted and snapped. From inside, came the
sound of breaking glass.

Petrie cried out in horror, saw the
Master leap forward and catch the boy by both shoulders. Somehow,
she heard the murmuring words over the wind's raging, knew that
Authberk's saving was the Master's first responsibility. She
glanced again at the wagon, saw the flicker of flames on the wild
curtains. The oil lamp had broken!

Petrie cried out again, this time in
anger, and heard in that deep portion of herself the hunting cry of
an ice-and-feather dog. High up, she saw the pup, nipping at the
monster's heels, harrying.

The monster flipped a careless limb,
sending the pup spinning. Petrie threw up both her hands, as she
had seen the Master do, and called in that deep part of her,
demanding allies to drive the enemy off!

They came. She felt them surge past
her, saw the cat-wind the Master had first hurled at her, and the
elephant-wind and the others that must have tried the temper of her
Will. Past her they rushed, leaping for the monster roofing the
sky, leaving behind the smells of cinnamon, warm fur, wet
leaves...

Surrounded, the monster halted. It
flailed out, seeking to break free. The elephant-wind stopped that
blow and the cat leapt in, teeth gleaming.

Petrie slammed her hands against her
outer ears, but that did not prevent her from hearing the
death-scream of the monster. It reverberated in the depths of her,
building until she thought she must scream in answer--and was gone.
The other winds drifted for a moment, then they were gone, as
well.