CHAPTER 28 – Show and Tell

Saphienne and Celaena found Iolas waiting for them outside the bakery, still plucking flowers from his robes as he leant next to the wide window. Saphienne settled next to him while Celaena went inside.

They said nothing for a time; the grove was quiet, still yet hours away from the afternoon rush when most elves socialised and collected their provisions. The only other people on the street were four adults, chatting amiably together outside one of the storehouses.

Glancing through the window – to where Celaena was stretched across the counter to speak with her unseen friend – made Saphienne remember a question for Iolas. “Why did you go on ahead?”

He was surprised she didn’t know. “I was forewarning Celaena’s… well, whatever they really are to each other: I was forewarning her friend that our lessons today were difficult, and that Celaena really needed her company. Knowing how Celaena can be, I told her not to ask about what happened.”

Saphienne saw the sense in it. “You know her well, then? The friend.”

“…No.” Iolas rubbed his cheek. “I’m ashamed to say it, but I’m not even confident I remember her name. Maewyn? No… Laewyn, maybe?”

“Then, how could you be sure–”

“I’ve seen how they are together.” He shrugged. “She cares about Celaena. That should be enough. And anyway — Celaena knew what I was going to do, and she didn’t stop me when she had the chance.” He looked across his shoulder, as-yet unnoticed flowers in his hood bobbing, then smiled at whatever he saw inside. “Her friend appreciated it.”

Saphienne hugged herself and gazed ahead. Socially, for all that she had cheered up Celaena, she still felt clumsy and awkward in comparison to Iolas.

Unfortunately, he misread her body language. “Since we have the chance to talk… how are you doing, Saphienne?”

“Fine.” She answered a little too quickly for it to be true.

“…If you say so. I’m not.”

Turning her head, she saw he was being honest, weariness causing his ears to droop. Her first thought was to reassure him. “We got through it, together. You heard what we were told: we did better than–”

“Not that.” Iolas sighed, dismayed by what he had learned. “You know I want to heal people? Invocation is the discipline best suited to healing… but, clearly, it’s also the most dangerous.”

“Is it?” Saphienne thought it through. “What about Transmutation?”

“Transmutation? I can’t see immediate danger in–” He realised what she was asking. “…You mean, is Transmutation better for healing?”

“Well, I don’t see where else healing would fall in the magical disciplines.” She squinted as she studied him, her mind on the puzzle. “Based on what we’ve learned so far, I don’t think you can conjure health. Hallucination and Fascination are about deception and compulsion, which might help with pain, but has nothing to do with healing. Translocation moves things. Divination might help you diagnose ailments. Abjuration protects…” She thought about Filaurel in her fern-patterned mask. “…But can you abjure a disease?”

“…Maybe?” His eyes had widened as he listened to her.

“Well,” she concluded, “Transmutation changes the state of things, so healing seems like it would fall under that discipline.”

The ambiguous way Iolas smiled as he looked away made Saphienne fret for a moment. “You know,” he said, softly, “I didn’t want an answer to my worries. I was just sharing…” He laughed, once, and tilted his head back. “…But, that helped. And it explains why Invocation gets used for healing so often, doesn’t it? Why priests are more common as healers, than wizards?”

A little unsure, she shrugged her shoulders shallowly. “I can see your logic. If you need different disciplines to accomplish different effects for healing, focusing on the discipline that can do them all would make sense… as long as the spirits you’re invoking are benevolent.”

“Spirits of healing usually are.” He frowned again. “You know, day-to-day, priests mostly invoke the spirits of the woodlands for healing… that isn’t the first one I’ve ever seen, but I’ve never seen one behave like that.” He shivered at the memory, then turned to her. “Saphienne… is it possible, that our master was telling the truth? That sometimes you have to be cruel, to be kind?”

As she studied her own shadow in his uncertain eyes, the emotion that had led Saphienne to become a wizard’s apprentice shifted again, roused from its slumber beneath all that had accumulated in her heart. Her voice was hard. “No. No, Iolas, I do not.”

He closed his eyes, nodding. “I agree,” he said. “It rings false, like a justification. But, I don’t understand how a spirit of healing could–”

“Are all spirits of the woodlands healing spirits? Is she a spirit of healing? Do we know that?” Saphienne found it hard to imagine. “And even if she is — was she acting freely when she came to us, or was she compelled to behave that way? How much was the spirit, how much was our master,” she begrudged Almon his title, “and how much was decreed by the Luminary Vale?”

“…No idea.”

She stared across the grove, to where the group of elves chatted. She felt herself settle down, stilled by envy at their easy smiles, inexpressibly saddened by her own ambiguous place in life. “Spirits can be compelled. People, too. But whoever is responsible… it was wrong. Cruelty is wrong.”

Iolas watched with her as he brooded. “…People justify what happens to them. My father told me that, once. Good or bad, fortune or calamity — people need a reason. They’ll claim their suffering served a greater purpose. That life’s cruelties have a point.” He crossed his arms, rubbing his left shoulder. “I don’t like that. Not about the big things; not about things that really matter. I don’t like convenient fictions, or reassuring lies. A lie will always remain a lie.”

Saphienne had turned to him as he spoke, all her sad longing melted away. She shifted a little closer. “Do you ever feel… like almost everyone else…”

“Yes. Often.” He breathed in, steadying himself. “I like people, Saphienne. I want to help them, if I can. But you’re not the only one who finds it hard to relate, sometimes.” He smiled sadly at her. “The good thing about calligraphy? It’s a solitary art. It’s a good excuse, for spending time alone.”

“I don’t know many people who think like us.” She spoke forlornly, neither conceit nor superiority in her words. “No one seems to care about the way things really are, behind the stories they tell each other. Or they care, but they’re easily satisfied… like they talk themselves into believing whatever makes life simple.”

“That’s not it.” He spoke just as sadly as she did, with experience she lacked. “Most people know the way things are… that’s not the problem. The problem is–”

But just then the door to the bakery opened, and Celaena emerged, leading another girl by her hand. “My thanks for waiting.” As she stepped out she gestured to her fellow apprentices. “You remember Iolas? Well, this is Saphienne.”

The young elf who came with her was a little taller than Celaena, her hair tied up in a netted bun, and the practical grey shirt and trousers she wore were lightly flecked with flour — save for where an undusted space across her chest and thighs told that she had recently worn an apron. Her face was a tender oval, and concealed nothing, her glances lingering on Iolas’ and Saphienne’s robes as she forced a smile that was pleasant if nervous. “Um, hello! Celaena’s told me so much about you… it’s nice to finally meet.”

Saphienne blinked. “She has? What has she said?”

The girl blushed crimson, while Celaena and Iolas both chuckled.

“Saphienne,” Celaena said, still smiling, “this is Laewyn…”

From the corner of her eye, Saphienne could see Iolas’ smile broaden — proud of himself for remembering her name.

“…And she was just being polite. It’s a thing people say. I haven’t really said much about you or Iolas.” Celaena turned to her friend. “Saphienne can be very… direct. She doesn’t mean anything by it.”

Laewyn recovered enough to bring her other hand from behind her back, revealing a closed wicker basket. “Well, Saphienne… you like strawberries, don’t you?”

Immediately suspicious, but also intrigued, Saphienne stood away from the wall. “I do… which means you were working here, when Faylar brought me in on the day before my birthday. You overheard the argument about my age?”

Mouth open, Laewyn bobbed her head. “…Celaena said you were sharp…”

Both Celaena and Iolas were grinning broadly. The latter patted Saphienne’s shoulder as he joined her. “Saphienne isn’t showing off; she’s just like this. You get used to it.”

That made Saphienne blush, though she was a little resentful at the way her friends talked about her. “…I do like strawberries. Thank you for remembering.”

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Reassured by her embarrassment, Laewyn smiled more openly. “Well, um, I have some strawberry tarts? And a few cinnamon rolls — you like those, don’t you, Iolas?” She shook her wrist, flicked the lid of the basket up with familiar ease. “We baked them yesterday, but they’re still good.”

Iolas tilted his head. “Alright, I’m not as quick as her. How did you know?”

“Um, your sister has a regular request for you both.” Laewyn nodded toward the back of the bakery. “I skimmed the ledger. Was that… I didn’t think you’d mind…”

He laughed, and reached in to take one of the tarts, passing it to Saphienne before claiming one of the rolls. “Not at all! It was very thoughtful of you. Especially after… the day we’ve all had.”

Briefly, Saphienne saw Celaena tense — then smother her feelings, her eyes on Laewyn as she spoke. “We were going to go for a walk, feed the birds.”

Iolas replied before Saphienne could say anything. “Well, thank you, but Saphienne said she has plans, and I really need to go home and change.”

The pointed lie was not lost on Saphienne, who gave a small bow. “Thank you for the pastries, Laewyn.”

“You’re welcome.” Laewyn’s relief was transparent, as was her self-consciousness about her own relief. “We should, um, hang out, some time? I don’t know many of Celaena’s other friends.”

“Sounds good.” Iolas waved. “Enjoy your walk.”

Recognising her cue, Saphienne turned away with him–

“Um,” Laewyn hesitated. “Iolas… um, why do you have flowers in your hood?”

The three apprentices froze.

Beside him, Saphienne was able to see Iolas’ expression – his surprise, his dismay, his worry for Celaena – before he took a deep breath and forced a small, superior smile.

Looking back, he gestured at his hood with the pastry, doing his very best impression of their master’s grandiose, dismissive manner. “Oh, this is a wizard’s business. Believe me when I tell you: you wouldn’t want to know.”

Mystified, Laewyn nodded as though she understood — and was surprised when Celaena and Saphienne burst out laughing.