CHAPTER 31 – Enchantment by Acquaintance

Laewyn was fully dressed when Saphienne and Iolas entered Celaena’s study, sitting by the window in a clean set of clothes identical to those she had worn the day before; she flushed as she exchanged polite greetings with them. Celaena hovered near the entrance as she blushed with her, and she promptly excused herself from the room, murmuring that she would fetch them all tea.

Saphienne dropped her satchel to follow her. “I’ll help you with the cups.”

But Celaena waved back across her shoulder. “No need. I won’t be long.”

Awkwardly, Saphienne stopped at the door. Iolas shrugged off his damp outer robes and stepped past her to hang them on the coat rack nearby, and she gratefully followed his lead, joining him at the study’s table after she retrieved her notes and writing kit.

No one spoke. Iolas was carefully setting out his pen and ink; Saphienne pretended to read; and Laewyn glanced between them with growing discomfort.

Finally, she broke the tension in a rush. “Um, I know what it looks like, but we weren’t–”

“Don’t care,” Saphienne said.

Iolas was more diplomatic. “Saphienne means that it’s not really our business… which it isn’t.”

Their response reassured Laewyn, though only a little. “Well… we weren’t. Really. I only stayed over because, um, Celaena asked me to.” She worried at the stitching of her trousers with her nails. “She just didn’t want to spend the night alone. And, um, I didn’t want to leave her.”

Saphienne took the opportunity to move them on. “So, no work at the bakery today?”

Laewyn smiled in quiet thanks, then snorted as she turned away to look out the window. “There probably was… but it’s not like I care. If Master Tanelia wants to tell me off, then fine, whatever — Celaena needed me more.” She shrugged, relaxing against the glass. “Anyway, I don’t think she’ll give me any bother. She was there when Iolas came in, and she said I should take some leftovers when she let me leave, so…”

Her disinterest surprised them, and Iolas couldn’t hide his mild reproach as he asked, “You don’t care for your apprenticeship?”

“No. Why would I?” She met his gaze with equal surprise. “It’s just something to do while I figure things out…” A little self-consciousness crept back into her voice. “I guess, um, you’re both just as committed to the whole ‘wizardry’ thing as Celaena, right?”

Saphienne gave her a nod, trying to be friendly. “We are. But I understand what you mean: I did a few apprenticeships, while I was waiting for the chance to study magic.”

“I heard about that. Filaurel dragged you into looking after the library, didn’t she?”

“She didn’t drag me into it.” Saphienne could hear the pout in her own voice. “I liked doing it… well, for a while.”

Laewyn sat forward, animated by their common ground. “Right? Sorting the books was fun for the first week, and the reading was interesting in the beginning, but then all that calligraphy — and the tests on the books?” She rolled her eyes. “She’s really demanding. And a bit cold, honestly.”

Saphienne was torn between indignation on Filaurel’s behalf, and fascination with the idea of Laewyn tending to the library. “…I’ve never found her cold. You apprenticed under her?”

“For a month or so, when I was twelve.” She shrugged. “Maybe she just didn’t like me? She’s always seemed a bit aloof, though. But I thought you were aloof, too — so what do I know?”

Saphienne stared, resentment stirring. “Why did you–”

Iolas laughed loudly and leant back in his chair, arms behind his head. “You’re not like I expected, Laewyn. Not even slightly.”

She canted her head. “That a good thing?”

His smile was warm and mischievous. “I think so: good for Celaena, definitely. I thought you’d be as uptight as her.”

“She’s not uptight!” Laewyn was protective of Celaena, and slipped to her feet to put her hands on her hips. “She just has lots to think about. Everything she does, she has to remember how it reflects on her father. That’s heavy.”

Yet Iolas wasn’t persuaded. “She is too uptight. I don’t know what her relationship with her father is like, but she’s her own person — you can’t live your life trying to make other people happy.”

There, Laewyn paused, and nimbly crept to the doorway, where she poked her head out to check the hall was empty. She lowered her voice as she came over to the table, leaning against it. “…You’re not wrong. And I don’t know how they actually get on… but she idolises him, you know? I mean, for good reason.” She gestured around the room. “He’s certainly a great man…”

“I suppose so.” Iolas stretched, then stared up at the ceiling, contemplative.

Their diversion had given Saphienne enough time to settle down, but she still studied Laewyn. “Why did you think I was aloof?”

Shrugging, the older girl leant sideways against the table, bracing with one hand, gesturing with the other. “You always kept to yourself? You never played games when you were younger, and no one I asked knew who you were friends with… not until now. Then, there’re the rumours that you’re really smart, and people said you were studying to be a wizard…”

“…I see.” Saphienne didn’t feel like explaining herself. “Well, I’m not.”

“I can tell that, now.” Laewyn grinned. “You know, neither of you are like I thought you’d be, either.”

“Oh?” Iolas’ eyes twinkled playfully. “What were you expecting?”

That gave her pause. “…Um, honestly? I thought you’d be more judgemental? Condescending, even?”

Saphienne smiled tightly. “You thought we’d be pricks.”

“…A little?” She blushed again, but laughed it off. “Wizards are intimidating, you know? I feel stupid, sometimes, next to Celaena. If I hadn’t met her through the bakery–”

“You’d have been scared of me?”

Celaena was standing in the doorway, a finely sculpted cup in each hand, grinning from ear to ear.

Laewyn blushed furiously, and retreated to the safety of the windowsill. “…I was going to say, we’d never have gotten to know each other. Not like we do.”

Giggling, Celaena walked over and handed her a black cup — and was followed by a levitating tray of dull metal that floated silently through the air behind her, carrying two more matching cups, a pitcher, and a steaming teapot.

“Damn.” Iolas stood up and approached the tray. “I’ve only ever seen these at the crafting hall. Actually, I tell a lie — Alinar has one in his tea house, but only for when it gets really busy.”

Saphienne had never seen an enchantment like it before, and couldn’t help but smile as she watched Celaena gently nudge the tray toward the table and press it down, where it settled into place, no longer airborne. “How does it work?”

“Magic,” Celaena teased, which made Laewyn laugh. Then she pulled out the chair beside Saphienne and sat, holding her cup with both hands and inhaling the bitter scent of her tea. “I don’t know how the enchantment works – not yet – but I’d guess it’s a translocation? The tray stays wherever you leave it, even in the air, and when it’s airborne it tries to stay level. To make it follow you, just hold one of the edges, and walk a few paces.”

Unable to resist, Saphienne started lifting the crockery onto the table – causing Iolas to fret about scratching the varnish, a worry that Celaena dismissed – and then hefted the tray in her hands, intrigued to find that it was almost weightless. Glancing up at the ceiling, she tossed it–

Celaena’s eyes widened. “Saphienne, wait!”

Too late, they all watched the tray bump off the ceiling and come to a halt, suspended beyond reach.

Their host sighed mournfully. “…I don’t know the command word, to pause the enchantment.”

Laewyn snorted, loudly — and promptly coughed tea all across herself, which only made her laugh more loudly when she caught her breath, joined a moment later by Iolas, and then Saphienne, and finally Celaena, too, for all that she was daunted by the magic hanging over them.

* * *

While Saphienne apologised, Laewyn plucked a random book from Celaena’s library and tossed it overhead, trying to knock the tray down a little. Her aim was good enough — but rather than dislodge the tray, the book landed on top, and got stuck.

Iolas sighed as he started moving the chairs away from the table. “Here’s a good joke: how many apprentice wizards does it take–”

Laewyn booed him, winning fresh giggles from Celaena.

By the time he had cleared the table, moved it underneath the tray, slipped off his shoes, climbed up, and ultimately failed to reach high enough, Saphienne was feeling quite guilty for all the trouble she’d caused. Then Laewyn hopped up beside him and jumped, catching the edge of the tray and pulling it back down with her — only for her landing to crack the wood below her, one of the legs splitting under the impact. The two had just enough time to look at each other in panic before the creaking leg gave way, the whole table tipping over as they reflexively sprang apart and onto the floor.

As fragments of finely varnished wood scattered across the floor, they could all see there was no salvaging it: the damage was done.

“Celaena,” Iolas began, ashen-faced, “I’m so sorry–”

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it’s taken without the author’s consent. Report it.

Her groan cut him off. “…I’m too tired for this…” Suddenly overwhelmed by fatigue, Celaena sipped her tea for strength.

Laewyn was studying the broken leg – which had been shaped from the same grain as the rest of the table – with growing horror. “Your father is going to be so angry…”

Hearing her, Celaena squinted. “Why would he be? It’s just a table.”

Iolas and Saphienne shared a disbelieving look.

Saphienne spoke up. “But, replacing it–”

“It doesn’t need replacing… does it?” Celaena crouched down. “No, the pieces are all still here. And even if they weren’t, it’s only wood. It’s simple to fix.”

Beside her, Iolas was doubtful. “…Even if you glued it back together, the break would show–”

“Iolas.” Celaena pinched the bridge of her nose. “Do you think father would waste his time with glue? And do you think he’d leave me here, without the means to fix whatever I break?”

Saphienne’s mouth dropped open. “No… you mean–”

“I have a wholestone,” the wizard’s daughter confirmed, absently gazing around herself as she stood. “…Somewhere in the house. I’m not sure where I left it. Or where I left the divining rod, ironically.”

Feeling out of her depth, Laewyn hugged herself. “What’s a ‘wholestone?’”

“I’ll show you later.” Celaena yawned. “Assuming I can find it…”

Iolas noticed how worried the non-apprentice was. “A wholestone,” he explained, “is the everyday name for–”

“A Stone of Making Whole…” Saphienne said to herself, still amazed.

“…Yes, for that.” He smiled, amused by her despite his own quiet awe. “They’re used for nontrivial repairs, and in very high demand. They can repair almost any damage, so long as it isn’t to anything living.”

“Or magical,” Celaena added. “Father sealed the branch of the house that holds his old sanctum, just in case. And he told me that if I broke any of the enchantments left for my use, I’d have to go without, at least until he got around to repairing them.”

Saphienne studied the tray where it hovered beside Laewyn. “Your father made… all of them?”

“Most. Father told me wizards trade favours, for minor things like these.”

Iolas laughed, and shook his head as he paced away. “Minor! Like it’s nothing…”