CHAPTER 15 – Intangible Lessons

To ensure she wouldn’t arrive last, on her first day of lessons Saphienne set out for the wizard’s abode even earlier, still yawning as she made her way through the outskirts of the village. Her lingering tiredness vanished the instant she came within sight of the towering tree — seeing another girl in apprentice’s robes, reaching for the door.

“Celaena!”

Celaena stopped on the doorstep, surprised by the shout so early in the day, and she gasped in astonished delight as she beheld Saphienne sprinting toward her. Her fingertips withdrew from the handle as she turned around, her grin growing as she stepped a few paces forward and opened her arms. “Saphienne! You made it!”

Saphienne had not intended to hug Celaena… but her panic at being too late through the door had made her cry out, and the other girl had mistaken alarm for excitement, so what else was there to do? She closed the distance and embraced her fellow apprentice, delicately. “It’s… good to see you again!”

Celaena let go and looked her up and down. “And you! I had no idea my– our master accepted you. He only mentioned Iolas.” She was shaking her head. “You’ve gotten taller, haven’t you?”

Embarrassed by her growth spurt, Saphienne looked away. “It’s just the robes. Jorildyn tailored them to make me look more… adult.”

“No,” Celaena disagreed, “you’re definitely taller. And that’s a good thing.” She was still smiling. “How did you talk him into it?”

Saphienne blinked. “Well, you’ll remember I studied with Jorildyn for a short time–”

“Not him.” Celaena giggled. “Our master. How did you talk him into it? He looked ready to murder you.”

“Oh.” Still faintly blushing, Saphienne tried to pretend it hadn’t been a struggle, and brushed her fingers through her hair. “What can I say? He knows talent when he sees it.”

That made Celaena grin even more broadly, mistaking her conceit for an indirect compliment. “He does, doesn’t he? Though — poor Faylar. Speaking of which,” she changed topics, “I’ve not seen much of him since that night. I heard he’s been spending a lot of time with you, and I assumed that meant…”

“…That I failed.” Saphienne shrugged. “Faylar made the same assumption, the day he was rejected. He came looking for me, wanting to commiserate. Instead, we ended up… well, we’ve been studying together. He’s going to try again, one day.”

Celaena was quick to catch why they hadn’t commiserated, along with its significance to herself. “Wait.” She leant back. “You mean, our master accepted you first, on the same night you made him lose his temper?”

“Well, yes.”

“…Oh.” She wilted under the confirmation.

Saphienne realised that Celaena was more invested in Almon’s opinion than anyone ought to be, and she opened her mouth to say so, but then wondered whether speaking poorly of the wizard on his doorstep was wise, and pursed her lips. “I don’t think he selected us by talent,” she said, “but by urgency? I was more of an immediate problem.”

Without quite understanding why they did, Saphienne saw her words made the other girl smile again. “I’ve heard you called a problematic child,” Celaena teased, “so I suppose that fits.”

Saphienne blinked again. “Problematic?”

Celaena shook her head. “Not you, yourself, more that…” She trailed off as she studied Saphienne’s expression. “…That other people can be judgemental.”

“Well.” Saphienne folded her arms. “They can judge all they like. Who cares what they have to say? Wizards should be above such stupidity.”

The other apprentice laughed, loudly, and glanced toward the door. “That we should! Or should be, one day.” She offered her arm. “Shall we go in?”

Not quite sure what the older girl expected, Saphienne held her own arm out in the same way. “Let’s.”

Celaena smiled and slipped her arm around Saphienne’s, and the pair walked together into the foyer — into their classroom.

* * *

Saphienne needn’t have worried: Iolas hadn’t arrived.

Almon was waiting for them, however, and they found him in the process of laying out a third writing board in a semi-circle around his high-backed chair. “About as early as I expected,” he noted as they separated and bowed to him. “In future, you may wait a further hour before attending.”

Saphienne was not impressed, and answered him with anger that she sweetened with polite irony. “We only wished to be diligent and punctual students, Master.”

Almon’s lips twitched. “As you say.” He gestured to the places next to the writing boards. “Since you’re both here before Iolas,” he continued, “you may sit and meditate while we await him.”

Celaena sat directly opposite his chair, smoothing out her robes as she lowered herself down. “Wouldn’t it be simpler to set a time, Master?”

Taking the space to her left, furthest from where the wizard stood, Saphienne answered for Almon. “Where would be the fun in that?”

Surprising her, the wizard nodded. “Saphienne is flippant, but she is not wrong — though, nor is she wholly correct.” He drew himself up to his full height, and his voice took on performative depth. “A wizard must not be buffeted about by the demands of the world. Magic must be respected, and so a wizard must command respect. Where it is not forthcoming, it must be insisted upon; no one but another practitioner of the Great Art may require the attendance of a wizard before he chooses.”

Encouraged by Saphienne, Celaena spoke up as well. “But Master, you are such a practitioner. Shouldn’t you demand the attention of your apprentices?”

Almon gave her a disappointed look. “Saphienne, explain it to her.”

Saphienne didn’t like being made to talk down to Celaena, and she forced an apologetic smile. “He’s teaching us to be wizards, so he’s treating us in the way we should expect to be treated as wizards.” Hidden beneath her sleeve, her fingers clenched. “Mostly.”

“Correct.” Their master smiled, throwing a little warmth upon Celaena. “Child… though you are but an apprentice, there is every possibility that you will one day stand where I stand. How are you to hold yourself with confidence, if you are made to dance to the beat of my drum, with no consideration given to your business? Your time is your own. And your respect is your own to give. My magic, and what I will teach you, should be sufficient motivation to receive your respect — and your prompt attendance.”

Celaena shifted uneasily. “What of the time wasted, waiting?”

Almon’s expression became severe, and he walked to stand right before them both as he spoke. “No time,” he said, heavily, as though laying down the law, “can ever be wasted without your consent. Are you bored? Then that is your doing. You have learned the essentials of focused meditation — and time spent honing your concentration is never wasted, will never be wasted, not even a thousand years from now.

“But more than this,” he went on, “a wizard should be prepared for whatever might await him. Do you anticipate that you might be kept waiting? Then come forearmed with a book, or a subject on which you would write, or any other fruitful purpose that may benefit from incremental progress. Even time spent on frivolous amusements is not wasted time, if it nourishes your capacity to withstand later challenges.”

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He surveyed them both. “You are children. More than eighty years await before you will claim a place as an adult elf in good standing. Most your age are free to dally and play, to feel boredom, to ‘waste their time.’ But if you would be a wizard, you must take ownership of yourself, and act deliberately.”

None of this was what Saphienne had expected; she found herself grinning. “You will teach us, but we are responsible for learning.”

“Correct.” He crouched down, level with Celaena. “And, I will say this, Celaena: there is no shame in not knowing, only in not thinking. But,” he added, his voice softer, “if you still do not know after thinking? Ask. I am also teaching you how you might present yourself as a wizard, and how to thrive under stress. If you are quick to feel embarrassment, if you let yourself be cowed by my sharp words… how will you fare against magic?”

There was a pause as she studied his gaze. Nervously, with the hint of a smile on her lips, she nodded.

In turn, he faintly inclined his head, and sprang back up. “For now: meditation. You must practice daily, until forgoing the act feels unseemly, unclean, and disquieting.”

Nothing further was said; both girls did as instructed, sitting in peace.

* * *