CHAPTER 43 – Managed Perceptions

Morning sunlight cheerfully shone down through the trees, its warmth incongruous with the sudden chill Saphienne felt as Taerelle stepped toward her.

The senior apprentice’s voice was crisp. “…Give me one good reason not to walk back up there, and tell our master that it really is your blood all over the ground. And it better be a very good reason, Saphienne.”

Success had been so close… but the gap through the enchanted brambles might as well have closed over. Nevertheless, she persisted with her act. “But our master said–”

“You can stop pretending.” Taerelle was no fool. “I compared the blood on the ground to the dried blood on your wrist — the way your blood clots is subtly distinctive. One more denial, and you’re done.”

Saphienne studied her gaze, saw her pupils still aglow from the divination she had cast to inspect the ruin of the stony tree. There was no way to refute her. Exhaling as though she were deflating, she took a moment to speak. “…Would it be presumptive to ask what gave me away?”

“The salt.” Taerelle showed no trace of pity as she answered. “I smelled it in your hair. We’re very far from any ocean, so there’s one reason I can think of why you would scatter it over yourself.”

Hyacinth had told her to brush it away… and Saphienne was in such a rush, she overlooked it. Her jog through the woodland had dislodged the grains from her robes, but not the roots of her hair. She closed her eyes, tiredness catching up. “You’ll have to enlighten me. I don’t know what it was for.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“I really don’t.” She showed her scored wrist. “All I was told was to sprinkle myself with salt, to cut myself as though by accident, avoid the cut being noticed, and get close to the dried blood.” She managed to raise her eyelids, which felt heavier than gold. “You’re correct: it’s my blood up there. I’m guessing that the point was to make it seem like my cut contaminated the sympathetic connection? But I don’t understand any of the principles.”

“Who instructed you?” Taerelle glanced to the briars. “…You had guidance from a spirit. The salt was to cover up recent possession.”

“I wondered.” Saphienne took note of the trick, not that it presently mattered.

“And why were you helping the spirits?”

“Wrong way around: I sought the help of a spirit, and she refused to intervene. All she would do is give me instructions.”

The admission earned a scowl of contempt from Taerelle. “And the calculations of distance, and the method for finding the clearing… all lies.”

“Not lies.” Saphienne looked around herself, saw there was nowhere to seat herself nearby, and so simply sank down on the grassy slope. “I knew where the clearing was from yesterday, but the method to find this place without magic had to be physically possible. My only advantage was knowing the answer I was trying to reach: the rest, I came up with, and tested.”

Her interrogator clenched her fist. “You’re the one who loosed the spirit.”

“With a Rod of Repulsion.” Saphienne’s voice was dry. “You called that part right. But the rest…”

“So you committed a crime,” Taerelle hissed, “and then betrayed your master – betrayed your fellow apprentices – to cover up what you did.” She began to back up the slope, not daring to take her eyes from Saphienne. “Stay right there. Whatever reason you had for doing all of this, there’s no reason to keep this from my master any longer.”

Watching her – seeing her resentment at being lied to – was painful for Saphienne, but not as much as having strived so hard only to fail. Everything she knew about Taerelle whirled around her as she thought through her predicament, honing in on any motive, no matter how tenuous, that could convince her to stay her hand.

There was only one… and it risked consequences far beyond her apprenticeship. That was why Hyacinth had chose to help her, she reflected ruefully.

“There is a reason,” she quietly called after her.

“No.” Taerelle spun away–

“You’ll be usurping the judgement of a High Master of the Luminary Vale.” Saphienne clasped her hands together. “The consequences for the woodlands in general, and your future as a wizard in particular, will be catastrophic.”

The apprentice in black halted on the slope.

She came back to Saphienne with a frigid gaze, standing over her so that she blocked out the sunshine. “Explain.”

“The Luminary Vale already knows exactly what happened.” Saphienne nodded up the slope toward where Almon was at work. “They sent our master in blindly, with as few details as possible, so that he could confirm the account they had received.”

“From you?”

“No.” She forced a superior smile. “From the spirits of the woodlands. They were obliged to tell our elders all that had happened, since they were compelled to imprison the apostate spirit in order to uphold the ancient ways. Given that the Luminary Vale immediately had us investigate, I presume the spirits told one of the High Masters. That’s why none of them would hide my involvement from you: they couldn’t risk interfering with the scene, and giving the High Master a reason to think they were being dishonest.”

“They helped you–”

“To do what?” Saphienne rose, laughing, and finding energy in her laughter. “I didn’t change a single thing about the scene. All I did was come along, and present myself in a way that changed the context of what you all saw.” She giggled at the absurdity, once more awed by what she understood of Hyacinth. “Brilliant, when you think about it. The spirit who helped me wouldn’t dare tamper with the scene… and she found a way not to.”

Taerelle was unimpressed. “My master still needs to know what you–”

“Then the Luminary Vale will tell him.” She tilted her head. “But isn’t it strange, that they warned him to take countermeasures against the spirits, and forgot to mention that his own apprentices were involved?”

The senior apprentice’s eyes widened. “Apprentices? You had help?”

“My fellow unproven apprentices were all involved.” Inwardly, Saphienne took a deep breath. “Iolas, and Celaena… whose father, I understand, is someone important at the Luminary Vale.”

Now Taerelle was unsure of herself. “…If the Luminary Vale know you did this, then why would you insist on your name…”

Saphienne saw the conclusion she was reaching, and just kept smiling at her.

The senior apprentice blanched, and took a step back, looking Saphienne up and down, glimpsing the woman the girl would become, dizzied by what she perceived. “…You want them to know you covered it up from Al– from our master.” She shook her head, amazed by Saphienne’s hubris. “You want them to see what you can do. And you’ve only been studying magic for…”

The reminder made Saphienne wilt. “Honestly, Taerelle? Sod these last few days. Everything has been completely fucking awful.”

“But you…” Taerelle clutched at her head, shaking it so hard her braid flipped over her shoulder. “…You can’t be allowed to continue as an apprentice. Your crime–”

“There was no crime.” She could feel her expression darkening. “And despite that, I’ve already been punished. I didn’t know what I was doing — I was spiritually manipulated, and put in an impossible position. The spirits of the woodlands accepted that, eventually, but when they first arrived…”

Finally, the older girl’s antipathy toward her cracked. “…That was a lot of blood.”

“Collapsed lung,” Saphienne recounted, holding up her fingers, “broken neck, torn muscles in my back, thigh, calf, wrist–”

“Stop.” Taerelle was sickened; there were hints of tears in her eyes, though as they glittered her expression twisted in anger. “How can I trust a word you’re saying? You just– the scale of your deception strains belief!”

That, Saphienne had to admit, was a very fair question. She was silent for a time as she gave it due consideration. “I suppose,” she finally said, seeing a path out, “I could tell you that there’s no way to know that I’m telling the truth, and that you’d just have to trust me… but there is a way to tell. The only problem,” she conceded, “is that the answer won’t be immediate.”

Sceptical, conflicted, her fellow student crossed her arms. “That isn’t good enough. I’m not giving you time to scheme your way out of this.”

“No schemes,” Saphienne said, meaning the words, and yet self-aware enough to know that she was probably lying. “And you’ll want to wait. If you tell our master, and expose the fact that a spirit aided me in deceiving him, what do you think he’ll do? What will our even-tempered master do – as an exemplar of restraint – when he realises he’s been tricked?”

“You should have thought of that–”

“Not to me.” She grinned, slightly manic as she spun out the consequences. “I told you: what it means for the woodland will be dire. This all comes down to trust in the ancient ways — between elf and spirit. What will result, if our master makes it known that his apprentice was used, harmed, and forced to betray him to cover up what had happened… all by woodland spirits?”

Taerelle was silent.

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“Do you trust our master to show discretion? And if you do, are you sure your judgement is better than the Luminary Vale’s?”

“What,” she quietly asked, “do you propose as proof?”

Saphienne calmed. She had contained the fire: all that was left to do was douse it. “Let our master write to the Luminary Vale, and ask to read his letter before his sends it. Make sure it says I attended the clearing with him. And most importantly — note who the letter is being sent to.” She gave a shallow bow. “Then? You could just wait for a reply and see what happens…”

Saphienne stepped closer.

“…Or you could write all of this down, in a letter of your own, and send it in secret. You could let the High Master know that you – not our master – were the one who caught me, and that you had the good judgement to think before acting, and to seek his counsel on how best to proceed.” She stared up into Taerelle’s pale blue gaze, her emerald eyes flashing. “I think that would benefit your application — wouldn’t it?”

Breathing very shallowly, Taerelle shivered. Her lips moved, but no words emerged. In the moment that stretched, the spell in her eyes finally faded, and Saphienne could read her more clearly — reading the same emotions she had first beheld from Filaurel, recognising the amazement, the uncertainty, and the overriding fear.

“…You’re dangerous.” Taerelle swallowed. “How are you able to do this?”

Saphienne shrugged, thinking of Filaurel, and Gaeleath, and Almon, and Hyacinth, and all the others from whom she had learned. “I have good teachers. All of them are very… educational.”

Swaying, Taerelle quickly sat down.

* * *

Of course, there was a cost. Once the shock faded, Taerelle recovered enough to dispense with courtesy, and demanded a price for her silence.

“You owe me a full account of what happened,” she insisted. “And from this point on, until our apprenticeships are concluded? Anything I need from you, I get. Once you wear black, you’ll be helping me with whatever research I’m engaged in, and I won’t accept any complaints or excuses.”

Saphienne knew that the threat was empty; as soon as Taerelle assisted in the deception, they would both have plenty to lose from its exposure. Yet Saphienne pretended she was cowed by her words anyway, both to hasten getting what she wanted, and also because the prospect of studying with Taerelle wasn’t unwelcome. “Does that mean,” she mirthlessly teased, “you’ve reconsidered my chances of catching up?”