CHAPTER 18 – Moving Ahead, Falling Behind

Spare a thought for Celaena and Iolas as they sat with Saphienne in the parlour of their master. Although both were older than her – Celaena turned sixteen, Iolas still seventeen – and had prepared for longer to secure their start as Almon’s apprentices, even from that very first day of lessons, they knew Saphienne was ahead of them.

No matter that they were both highly intelligent and thoughtful elves; no matter that the wizard regarded them with greater warmth than he did Saphienne; no matter that she was barely older than fourteen, and that they had more experience in many aspects of life. Listening to her recount what she had seen with the Second Sight, Celaena and Iolas knew without a doubt that she outshone them in apprenticeship… and, also, that she had no idea how inadequate she made them feel.

You might expect they would be jealous. No, they were not jealous. Nor were they angry. The glances they exchanged as Saphienne talked began as a shared acknowledgement that she was capable, soon growing into mutual disbelief, before finally becoming silent requests for reassurance — that they were both out of their depth.

This was why, when their master asked the trio to offer their thoughts on what they had described, Celaena and Iolas urged Saphienne to speak up. Better that she go first, and they could ride along after her. Better that, than have her trample over them when her turn came.

“Taking into account everything I described…” Saphienne took a deep breath. “…I think what we saw today wasn’t magic.”

She didn’t notice Iolas catch Celaena’s eye, just as she didn’t notice them both studying Almon intently for his reaction. Saphienne was totally absorbed in her ongoing contest with the wizard, and she wouldn’t understand anything about how she affected them until much later, until after she had learned the social awareness that came so readily to others.

Almon studied Saphienne as he sat, leaning forward. “…Go on, Saphienne. Explain the basis for that conjecture. Justify yourself to us.”

Entertained, the illusory familiar chirped beside the window. “This ought to be good!”

“No more commentary, Peacock.” The wizard didn’t take his eyes from his apprentice. “Do her the courtesy of allowing her reasoning to stand, or fold, on merit.”

Saphienne wondered whether that meant she was onto something, or whether he was letting her make a fool of herself. She hoped it was the former. “There are a few things we saw that suggest we weren’t seeing everything,” she began, “and you made a point of telling us that we would have to learn to infer what we couldn’t directly observe. Then, earlier, you said the Second Sight wouldn’t be the first spell we would learn, despite being fundamental to learning all other magic, because we would have to learn to sense what it revealed.”

Almon nodded. “And yet, you say the spell didn’t reveal magic?”

“That puzzled me, until I considered something else: that you might not be speaking with precision, and instead giving us a simplified explanation. Why else would you instruct us, despite all you said about judging from context and inferring hidden truths, to take your words at face value?”

“An instruction you presently ignore.” He wasn’t annoyed. “Continue.”

“I’ll start with the tome in the library.” She thought back to what she had observed, recalling how three different magical disciplines combined to read what was written in the tome, transmit it elsewhere, and reproduce it on an identical page. “I saw indigo flashes whenever a word was written. Yet, the flashes faded away. Then, when someone wrote a reply, specks of the same colour appeared on the page and clustered around the area where the reply was to be written. A white flash followed, and then green lines traced out the message as it was writing itself on the page.” Continuing, she matched the colours to their disciplines of magic. “Filaurel told me that indigo is the colour of Translocation spells, and that green is the colour of Transmutation spells. The Divination spell you cast on us was white.”

Almon addressed the others. “All accurate. To facilitate discussion, I will add that the discipline of Invocation appears yellow, while Hallucination is blue, Fascination is violet, Abjuration is orange, and Conjuration is red. The specific shades vary, and can be concealed or misrepresented by a competent wizard, but let us ignore these complications for now.” He returned his focus to Saphienne. “What is your point, child?”

She looked questioningly at Almon. “If the Second Sight reveals magic, showing its presence as colour, then I have to wonder: where did the magic appear from? And where did it return to?”

Celaena’s voice was quiet. “I don’t understand…”

Saphienne tried to clarify. “The colours were only visible while the tome was in use. Where were the indigo, and the white, and the green, before? What about afterwards?”

Having not meant to interrupt, Celaena was blushing. She sought permission from Almon with a raised hand before she tried to answer. “If indigo is the colour of Translocation… which I think implies movement… could the magic have gone to the other pages, in the matching tomes? Did it send knowledge of the words there, to be copied?”

“I had the same thought,” Saphienne answered. “That would also explain why specks of indigo appeared on the page before the reply. But where was it before the writing began? None of the colours were visible at first. I didn’t see any on the pages.”

Almon leant back. “The enchantment lies in the binding of the cover,” he explained. “Along with the pen. The pages aren’t magical at all, and can be swapped out once the book is filled. Such an enchantment is harder to discern when it isn’t performing its purpose, and so can be difficult for an untrained eye to notice.”

Saphienne frowned. “I missed that.”

“Knowing this now, does it change your conjecture?”

She thought it over; the fact he asked the question, rather than moving on, suggested there was more. “No. I think Iolas’ observations of an Invocation spell suggests the same thing.”

Iolas perked up. “How?”

“You said that the summoned spirit appeared to be surrounded by a yellow glow, but that the spirit itself wasn’t yellow to the Second Sight. Contrast this with Peacock, who we know is a figment, and who glows with blue and violet to the Second Sight.”

The bird chirped, happy to be mentioned.

Saphienne nodded to Iolas. “You said the spirit departed when the spell ended. What about before it arrived? Was the yellow that surrounded it already present? Was there an enchantment, like the book cover, or some other place in which the yellow was waiting?”

Unsure, Iolas considered what he had seen. “…We were at a shrine. And the shrine was enchanted with magic.”

“You said that the shrine appeared different — a more golden hue.”

“It was.” He pursed his lips. “I didn’t see the magic within the shrine interact with the summoning spell, either, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.”

Almon inclined his head. “Good. I will interject again, and tell you that the so-called ‘consecration’ on the shrine will have made the summoning spell more likely to succeed, but that the enchantment itself was indeed separate. You have both correctly guessed that different spells of the same discipline can have different shades of the discipline’s colour… such as the yellow of butter, or the yellow of gold.”

“Then,” Saphienne went on, “if not within the shrine — where was the yellow of the summoning before the Invocation spell was cast?”

Celaena was nodding her head, following now, but she spoke up for the sake of the argument. “Could the magic have arrived with the spirit?”

“Iolas,” Saphienne turned to him, “did you see the yellow appear at the same time as the spirit arrived, or before?”

“Before,” he answered, “I’m certain. And it lingered after.”

“So either it was called from the place where the spirit was, and came ahead, and then departed after the spirit had gone,” she concluded, “or it appeared during the spellcasting, opened the way for the spirit, and then the spirit departed before the spell was finished.”

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The wizard scoffed. “Feels a little thin. You need more in support of your theory.”

“I have more,” Saphienne shot back, invested now. “I had my eyes closed when you cast the Second sight on me. I saw the spell taking shape before it showed me… whatever it actually showed. I’ll return to that.” She addressed the others. “Did it look the same to you? Like the colours were swaying, rippling, before they came into focus?”

Iolas shook his head, but Celaena nodded.

“To me,” Saphienne continued, “it looked like the colours were being reflected on another medium. Like the surface of a pond, let’s say.”

Almon tutted. “Looks can be deceiving.”

“They can.” She smiled. “For example, the Second Sight you cast on me let me see the identical spell that you cast over Iolas. He could also see my Second Sight spell. But when I tried, I couldn’t see my own Second Sight spell… not while using that same spell.”

She looked to Iolas for confirmation, which he gave, and she went on. “The only glimpse I got of my own spell was when I saw its reflection… in the spell cast on Iolas. Why couldn’t I see it directly?” She took another, deeper breath. “I think the Second Sight showed me the spell you cast on Iolas responding to the spell that was cast on me. I saw his spell, showing him my spell.”

At that, Almon ceased to pretend scepticism, or to say much at all. He watched her, waiting for her to conclude.

“If the Second Sight reveals magic, and the Second Sight is a spell, and a spell is magic — why can’t the Second Sight see itself?” Saphienne glanced at the other apprentices, but they remained silent. “And, when I watched Eletha sing her craft magic, it seemed that the green appeared in response to the singing, and changed with the singing, but neither Eletha or her voice on the air appeared green.”

Saphienne gestured to Peacock. “He’s made of magic. But Second Sight doesn’t show the magic he’s made of, does it? It only shows the magic at work. The Second Sight doesn’t show magic, does it? The Second Sight shows spells. I think spells aren’t the same thing as the magic they use.”

“And what, Saphienne,” her master asked, “is the distinction?”

She glanced at the page of thoughts she had written, but the answer wasn’t there. “…It’s to do with the sunlight,” she realised, thinking aloud. “The sparkles from the sunlight weren’t spells, but appeared like spells to the Second Sight. Which would suggest…”

Peacock bobbed his head, encouraging her.

“…Spells are the intersection between magic, whatever it actually is, and the world around us?”