CHAPTER 60 – Auguries of Innocence

The two apprentices walked back toward the village together, Saphienne abandoning her plan to hunt for wildflowers as she outlined her boundaries for Taerelle. “If we’re to be friends, then we have to be able to trust each other. I don’t consent for you – or whoever was helping you – to augur my future, and I don’t want you scrying on me.”

Taerelle smirked at her demand. “And how would you tell if someone did? I’ve been scrying on you for days now.”

Although better in control of herself than when she was caught unprepared, Saphienne nevertheless had to work hard to conceal her renewed fear. “I see. That’s why you’re surer about me than before — you’ve decided I’m really a child?”

“A deeply unusual child.” She had been entertained. “I’ve been watching ever since I recovered from the transmutation. The only times I haven’t been observing you were while our master was teaching you, since he’d have noticed me. Keeping track of you when you were in Celaena’s home was a challenge.”

Recalling what Almon had said – that the transmutation would have enfeebled Taerelle and Rydel the day after their outing with him – comforted her. Taerelle hadn’t begun scrying until two days after Filaurel had talked with her in the kitchen, and Saphienne couldn’t think of anything she’d done since then that would look damning. The timing also explained how Taerelle knew Almon had offered Saphienne the chance to study under a new master — she had been listening in, when Saphienne told Iolas and Celaena.

Curiosity replaced her worry. “Who else knows about the letter?”

“Apart from me and you? A spirit who goes by Wormwood.” She canted her head. “Did you really believe that I could cast spells of the Second Degree?”

Saphienne stopped walking and studied the ground. “Any other week, I’d have trusted in my knowledge.”

“…That lesson is a lot to take in,” Taerelle conceded. “I didn’t sleep well for days after I learned our history. One thing to understand magic is dangerous, but to comprehend how terrifying wizards can be?”

“You weren’t the only one who lied.” Saphienne looked up into her cool gaze. “I’ve been trying not to think about it.”

Her senior searched her face thoughtfully. “Wondering about your capacity for manipulation and deceit.”

Completely unguarded before Taerelle, Saphienne nodded.

“…You look like a child now.” Taerelle’s smile wasn’t condescending. “This is the first time since I caught you that I think I fully believe you. Perhaps the Luminary Vale isn’t making me waste my time.”

Saphienne managed a weak smile. “A wizard’s time is never wasted without her consent.”

“What am I to make of our time together?” Taerelle asked the question rhetorically, crossing her arms as she pondered the riddle of the girl who was now her responsibility. “What am I to make of you? You frighten me, you know.”

“I know.” Saphienne glanced back the way they had travelled. “That’s why you put on a show: you wanted to feel in control of the fear.”

“Girls of fourteen aren’t meant to be so discerning…” Taerelle didn’t sound like she wholly believed that. “…But it’s your ability to read people and play them that unnerves me, probably in much the same way as Fascination frightens you. Assuming you can cast spells, you’re going to find you’re very talented with it.”

She shivered. “I don’t like that.”

“Good.” Warily, she held out her hand. “Would-be disciples of Fascination who revel in it are quickly corrected.”

Less reserved than before, Saphienne nevertheless took a moment before she accepted Taerelle’s hand and resumed walking. The older girl’s palms were faintly clammy. “What happens to them?”

“That depends on whether they can change. Someone who studied in my cohort wouldn’t, and a few years after he attained the First Degree he was stripped of his apprenticeship and barred from study by decree of the Luminary Vale.” Her nose wrinkled in disgust. “He was a creep. I don’t think he ever actually hurt anyone, but we all had the feeling he’d be tempted to, if he thought he could get away with it. I was glad when he left.”

“Did he start that way?”

“No.” Taerelle watched her from the corner of her eye. “He was just arrogant and awkward at first. And an accomplished bullshitter.”

“…Bullshitter?”

She chuckled. “How’s this for a first lesson: ‘bullshit’ is complete nonsense, and a capable bullshitter is adept at persuading people with compelling lies. An example would be convincing everyone that you’re just keen to take part in an educational outing–”

“I get it.” Saphienne’s lips were drawn.

They walked in silence for a hundred paces.

“Saphienne,” Taerelle began, “I’m going to choose to believe you’re not destined to become the kind of dangerous person you could grow into. And I’m going to hope that you’re not playing me like a lyre… even though I know that you almost certainly are. You said I scared you because I wanted to be in control — and that’s the sort of insight that comes to someone who needs to be in control.”

Taerelle was far from foolish. “Let’s pretend you’re not wrong.”

“That’s the real reason you came along that day, isn’t it? You weren’t just unwilling to trust that our master would be reasonable: you needed to be the one in control of your own future.” The senior apprentice squeezed her hand. “He probably would have ended your apprenticeship. That doesn’t mean what you chose to do in response was the right choice, only that he’s a flawed man.”

Saphienne snorted. “Deeply flawed.”

“Like you. Very much like you.”

She swallowed hard.

“About a week after he decided to take you on,” Taerelle shared, “he was teaching us modern theories about the sympathy of semblance. It’s the least useful of all the forms of magical sympathy, so none of us were particularly enthused by the lesson, and it wasn’t long before he wandered off topic. That was the first time he mentioned you to me and Rydel.”

“That’s when he told you I collapsed his hallucination.”

“Would it surprise you to know he was laughing about it?”

Less than a week before, it would have; but his glee during the introductory lesson on Hallucination had shown he was less angry than he once had been. “I can see that.”

“We laughed, too.” Taerelle shook her head, her long braid lightly swatting Saphienne. “You caught him completely by surprise. He wasn’t happy about having to teach you, but when Peacock repeated your reason for wanting to learn the art of magic, the respect our master felt for you was undeniable.”

Yet Saphienne had lied about that, too.

“You told him something at the start…” She tried and failed to remember Saphienne’s precise words. “…Something along the lines of, ‘You detest things about me you detest about yourself.’ I’m sure you were right about that. Have you considered the possibility that you feel the same way?”

Her steps slowed.

Taerelle leant in close. “If you don’t want to be like him,” she whispered in her ear, “then you need to accept the ways in which you already are. Almon is a brilliant liar, especially to himself.”

Nelathiel and Filaurel had each suggested the same about Saphienne. Her heart fluttered.

“So I can make you sweat.” Taerelle nevertheless squeezed her hand again.

Wrestling with her resentment toward Taerelle, Saphienne still appreciated that the older girl had slowed for her. She consciously lengthened her stride as she took ahold of herself, but her grip on who she was felt tenuous. “May I ask you a question?”

“Seems fair.”

“In what way am I an unusual child?”

Fierce laughter answered her.

“Where to begin?” Taerelle mused. “How about we start with you invoking your guardian spirit with a ritual of your own devising — before you’ve even learned the fundamentals.” She had been very entertained by what she’d scried. “Let me give you some advice: you don’t need to use a ritual to call for a specific spirit who is waiting to answer you. So long as they have ready means to manifest, a willing spirit can be invoked through the sympathy of identity, such as by calling their name three times. And anything that can dry out or fade away makes for a poor and potentially dangerous circle — so don’t use spit again.”

Saphienne blushed.

“Then there’s walking with that spirit. I couldn’t get much out of her about what you two were–”

“You questioned her?” Saphienne let go of her hand.

Taerelle paused to face her. “Earlier today. I told you before: I needed a time and place where we could talk privately, but your guardian spirit makes that quite difficult. Eventually I realised that I’d have to make my own opportunity.”

Outrage grew in Saphienne’s darkening eyes. “How did you bind her? The ancient ways prohibit–”

“The ancient ways permit the binding of spirits for the purposes of education approved by the Luminary Vale.” Her tutor tapped the pocket that held her letter. “I was told to supplement your lessons from our master. I invoked her by the name she gave you, then bound her in my sanctum. She’s quite young — it wasn’t difficult. She took it far more graciously than I expected.”

“In what way is that possibly–”

“Educational?” She slyly smiled.

Growing emotionless in her fury, Saphienne slowly clenched her fists. “Release her.”

“Don’t fret: the binding expires soon. I won’t be binding her again.” She tilted her head as she contemplated Saphienne’s reaction. “You care about her welfare. That’s reassuring to know. She’s very loyal to you, as well.”

“If you’ve hurt her–”

“There’s his temper!” Taerelle resumed strolling. “Stop reacting and start thinking. She was obviously in no danger from me: all she’s been compelled to do is sit around for a few hours. If you took even a second to reflect, you would know why I wouldn’t dare mistreat a spirit of the woodlands.”

The fact that her tutor was right only upset Saphienne even more.

Through an effort of will that tensed every muscle in her body, Saphienne forced herself to calm down, breathing out the anger that had surged through her. She caught up with the older girl as she let her lungs empty. “…Hyacinth is none of your concern.”

“On the contrary: she’s in much the same position as I am. She has my sympathy.” Taerelle offered her hand again. “…Why did that upset you so much?”

Saphienne declined to take it. “Binding her against her will is wrong.”

“Not so good at bullshitting now.” Taerelle wasn’t offended, and kept holding out her hand as they walked on. “I’m not asking why that should upset you: I’m asking why you reacted so strongly to hearing that. What was it about her being bound by me, that made you discard all reason?”

She reached for the coin pouch in her pocket, and clutched it in her hand as she felt through the deep currents that had overwhelmed her, reading the surface of their reddening waters and discerning the outline that lurked beneath. “…I lost a friend. She was taken away.”

“Always sad when someone we love moves to another village.” Taerelle glanced at Saphienne. “You must have been very young.”

She had been eleven years old… but she felt as though she had been younger, realising for the first time how slow she had been to mature. Isolation and neglect had made her lag behind where she should have been–

And she was still behind, Saphienne realised.

Slowly, she threaded her fingers through those of the older girl once more. “You should be a teacher. Unless you’re phenomenally good, your talents are wasted on enchantment.”

“I am phenomenally good.” Taerelle swept up her braid in her other hand as she preened. “This isn’t the same as teaching. And I’m still not allowed to teach you anything about real magic — ritual Invocation hardly counts.” She studied the sky. “I suppose there’s some overlap… weaving an enchantment is about making magic take root in gross matter, and for all you’re a rare and challenging metallic ore…”

“…I’m still unrefined.” Her lessons with Eletha came to mind. “We have one thing in common: I studied the art of jewellery.”

“That’s useful.” The way she said it implied she was considering putting Saphienne to work, but she had other priorities. “Although, we have more than one thing in common. Shall I tell you what else I scried?”

No divination was necessary for Saphienne to know what Taerelle had seen. “My mother is also none of your concern.”

“If it makes you feel better, Saphienne,” the senior apprentice said, “seeing your home life was what reassured me that you’re not all I feared. And like your spirit friend, you also have my sympathies: I can’t stand being around my family, either.”

 

* * *

 

When they reached the edge of the village Taerelle told Saphienne where she lived, and instructed her to come find her when – not if – she next got herself into trouble, which she hoped wouldn’t be for some time. She also promised not to scry on her too often, and to never have Wormwood augur her future again.

“I can’t really tutor you much until you’re a proven apprentice,” she admitted as they separated, “and I can’t tell you about the ancient ways until you’re older. Can you focus on your studies for the time being, and let sleeping dragons lie?”

Saphienne said that she could; she hoped it was true.

“Don’t tell Iolas or Celaena about this.” Taerelle briefly hummed as she tapped a finger on her own lips. “…Or Faylar or Laewyn, whom I really ought to look into…”

“Faylar wants to be a wizard one day — he’s not going to cause trouble. And Laewyn…” Saphienne groped for an explanation that would make sense. “…She’s the sort of person who just wants an easy life. She’ll want to pretend that it never happened. You can leave them both alone.”

“You’re good at reading people,” Taerelle admitted, “but you’re also good at misleading them, so I’m not going to just take your word for it. I won’t intrude too deeply.”

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Saphienne folded her arms. “Don’t you feel guilty? Invading people’s privacy?”

The senior student laughed, waving across her shoulder as she turned to leave. “Enjoy snooping on Filaurel’s correspondence, Saphienne.”

Beneath her hot flush – muttering petulantly to herself as she headed for the teahouse – Saphienne was forced to admit: in light of everything she had done, she was being a hypocrite.

What she later learned when she met with Hyacinth will wait, for now.

 

* * *

 

Two days before her next lesson with Almon, as she was leaving the library to go to her practice with Gaeleath, Saphienne was surprised when Thessa came bounding up the steps with a pair of cups, her freshly dyed, violet hair trailing behind her.

“Good morning Saphienne!” Her smile was nervous. “Can we talk?”

Having been brought her favourite beverage, and knowing that Iolas’ sister had requested it from her own allowance, Saphienne felt obliged to forego her prior commitment. They sat together on the steps to sip their tea.

“…I shouldn’t ask this.” Thessa traced the rim of her cup with her fingernail. “We don’t know each other very well… but Iolas thinks the world of you, and you’re the only person he might actually listen to…”

Seeing Saphienne’s growing concern, Thessa begged her not to tell Iolas she had come to see her; only then would she admit what had prompted their meeting.

“He’s not doing well.” The artist squinted. “I mean, he’s physically fine. And he’s not in any trouble that I know about. But he’s done nothing other than write for five days, from early in the morning until late into the night. And today he’s pacing around, working himself up over his essay.” She shook her head. “He won’t talk to me about whatever he’s struggling with. I’ve never known him to shut me out. All he’ll tell me is he doesn’t have an answer.”

Caution held Saphienne back. “We’re not supposed to confer–”

“But I’m not an apprentice wizard!” Thessa was exasperated. “Why won’t he show me what he’s working on? Why won’t he even tell me what he’s writing about?”

Saphienne chose her words carefully. “We’re not meant to share the content of our lessons with anyone, and the essay we’re to write concerns what we’ve been studying. You’re going to have to get used to him keeping some secrets from you.”

“I don’t mind if he has secrets.” She sighed. “I just don’t like that I can’t help him.”

“…Thessa, we’re not supposed to help each other with the essay.”

“Then don’t.” She set her cup on the steps as she took hold of Saphienne’s forearm with both hands, her pleading eyes very similar to her brother’s. “Can’t you just get him to take a break? He needs some perspective, and he’s not going to find any if he keeps going in circles.” She leant in with a whine. “Please? If I have to, I’m willing to bribe you.”

“You don’t need to do that,” Saphienne said, enjoying her tea. “I’ll talk to him.”

“Thank you.” Her relief rolled down the steps like evaporating mist. “Is there anything I can do to help? Or to show my gratitude?”

“No…” Yet her mischief was waiting for her in the bottom of her cup. “…But if you need to thank me somehow, you could sneak Celaena a bottle of wine — for Laewyn.”

 

* * *

 

The second time she visited, Saphienne knocked on the front door of Iolas’ home, waiting until she was answered by a friendly woman draped in layers of floral embroidery.

“Goodness! You must be Saphienne. Are you here to see Iolas?”