CHAPTER 72 – Making Space for the Sunshine

Journeying home to the Eastern Vale was uneventful for Saphienne, who furtively put on the ring from time to time, never with any regularity, and never while she was standing more than five feet away from Filaurel and Faylar. She hoped that the Wardens of the Wilds were following them westward — and that the goblins remained far from the shrine. Whether or not her plan was working, after three days hiking in the wilderness, Saphienne was very glad for a hot bath and an early night.

Much demanded her attention upon her return.

 

* * *

 

Peacock whistled a brazen fanfare as Saphienne entered the classroom. “All hail the goblin slayer!”

Her heartfelt sigh only made the bird cackle; Celaena and Almon were grinning, while Iolas mercifully slipped past her to hang up his outer robes.

Refusing to dignify Peacock with any further response, she sat down on the floor and looked over at Celaena. “Did Faylar tell you about it?”

“He did.” Amusement made her eyes sparkle. “Does Iolas know?”

“I heard,” Iolas answered, unwilling to join in as he took the space between them. “She told me about it on the way here. I don’t think it’s a laughing matter: dozens of offerings were ruined, and now the poor creatures are going to be put down by the wardens.”

“Perhaps,” their master conceded as he browsed his shelves, “but doesn’t the thought of Saphienne chasing goblins around entertain you?”

Iolas shrugged.

Saphienne felt great warmth toward him, for that. “They were starving and miserable,” she reproached the others. “I feel guilty about what’s going to happen.”

“Because of your fumbling?” Almon refused to be shamed, and directed his next question to Iolas. “Did she tell you that she lost a Ring of Misperception to them? The wardens have been tracking it, apparently to little avail.”

Now her master had her full attention. “The Wardens of the Wild spoke to you?”

“As did Filaurel.” He found the book he was looking for and came around to his chair. “You needn’t concern yourself: she took responsibility for letting you wander, and the wardens had only praise for your conduct.” He tapped his fingers on his armrest, thoughtful. “The goblins were last detected going eastward, but they seem not to understand the ring — they aren’t wearing it consistently enough to be tracked. I’ve agreed to perform some divinations…”

Feeling her eyes widen, Saphienne played off her fear as anger. “So you’re going to help murder them?”

“What the wardens do when they catch them is their business,” he replied. “I’m merely assisting in the retrieval of an enchantment that could be dangerous in the wrong hands. Personally?” Almon was dismissive. “I think killing them is pointless.”

She leant back. “We can agree on that.”

Quiet after her earlier levity, Celaena looked contrite. She broke the uncomfortable silence to change their topic. “Master… aren’t we receiving our first spells today?”

Almon’s face fell. “We are delayed until next week–” he raised his voice against their audible disappointment “–and not by my choice! The conclusion to your lesson in Fascination is dependent upon another schedule.”

Iolas was suspicious. “Whose?”

“You will meet him soon,” Almon assured them. “All will be clear. But we will speak no more on the matter today. Since my intended lesson isn’t possible, let us instead concern ourselves with the magical metals…”

Saphienne listened as Almon introduced orichalcum and mythril and adamantine, absently writing down their properties. Her eyes drifted to Celaena, her mind on the forthcoming divinations — and how she would thwart them.

 

* * *

 

On her second visit, Saphienne knocked on the door to Taerelle’s ritual space before entering, finding that the forge was unlit and the senior apprentice was chalking elaborate symbols on the floor.

Taerelle remained crouched. “Give me a moment.”

Saphienne tried to interpret what the markings meant as she crept closer; she could guess they were related to spellcasting. “Are these sigils?”

Her tutor smirked. “You would know if they were… and what did I just tell you?”

She retreated.

When the senior apprentice had completed her mystical scrawl she rose and tossed down the chalk, folding her arms as she reviewed her labour. “You will soon be taught to read magical writing,” she said, “so I don’t think I’m overstepping by saying these could be sigils, if they were magically imbued. I’ve nearly finalised the enchantment for the wands. Seeing the notation laid out before the sigils are vested helps ensure I’m not making any mistakes…”

Knowing what the symbols were did little to decipher them. They were elaborate, with strange symmetries, precise in their geometries yet impossible to reduce to mere curves and tangents. Their outlines reminded Saphienne of inkblots, or perhaps the shapes left behind by staring into sunlight, suggestive of an afterimage rather than–

“Are those for the fittings?”

Saphienne unfolded the papers she was carrying, both Taerelle’s original design and the three different fittings she had meticulously diagrammed.

Taerelle surveyed them over her shoulder. “…Beautiful style. The daffodils and hyacinths will be gorgeous. But sunflowers? You were supposed to pick flowers that don’t bloom in the summertime.”

Her gaze was defiant as she argued her case. “Sunflowers might first show their petals in summer, but they’re technically an autumnal–”

“You just want to annoy our master, don’t you?”

“…A little.” She hated being so transparent. “…And I like sunflowers.”

“More than hyacinths?” Taerelle grinned. “I used to love daffodils when I was young…”

The older girl – actually a grown woman, Saphienne now knew – moved away to look over her available materials. “I’ll just blame you for your choices. I usually work late, so you can use the forge during the afternoon — but don’t arrive before midday.…” She paused, tapping her stockpiled gold. “…And not tomorrow. Our master has asked me to visit him.”

Saphienne had hoped that would be the case, but contrived to look ashamed. “Then… I should tell you…”

Her tutor’s braid whipped around. “Really, prodigy? What have you done now?”

 

* * *

 

Once Taerelle had stopped laughing at her heavily censored account, Saphienne explained its consequences as though apologising for the inconvenience.

“How dare you waste my valuable time,” Taerelle replied, tongue-in-cheek. “I shall have to inform to the Luminary Vale that you’re unfit to be trusted with magic — at least around goblins.”

“Very funny.” Saphienne shook her head. “Why aren’t you upset with me? Haven’t I caused you a problem?”

“Hardly!” Taerelle giggled as she retrieved her chalk. “Scrying for a specific enchantment? Shouldn’t be a challenge. I don’t anticipate sophisticated countermeasures.”

Prompting Taerelle to share what Saphienne wanted depended on how she phrased her next question, and she crossed her arms in false smugness. “Not as difficult as scrying me, then.”

Taerelle scoffed. “You’re not hard to divine.” She hadn’t noticed the nudge, and set to work revising the arcane script on the floor.

“You said keeping track of me was a challenge–”

“While you were visiting Celaena!” Taerelle rolled her eyes. “You weren’t the challenge.”

Saphienne took care to frown. “We once triggered an alarm by climbing her wall–”

“Boundary walls define a space being warded,” her tutor said, making corrections with dextrous flicks. “They anchor the enchantment. Your friend’s home is powerfully warded against Divination spells.”

“Because of her father.” She pretended to be astonished. “He’s an accomplished member of the Luminary Vale — how could you possibly get around his wards?”

“I didn’t.” Taerelle’s pride compelled her answer. “I said I kept track of you: I never actually scried within the grounds. My spells remained outside the walls while I watched you through the windows.” She glanced up. “Want to be a competent diviner? Learn to lipread.”

That gave Saphienne all she needed — and more. “You just told me how to have a conversation without you listening in.”

“Believe it or not, Saphienne? I’m not very interested in eavesdropping on you. All I want is for you to stay out of trouble until you’re a wizard, which you’ve mostly been doing, goblins excepted.”

Uncertainty had been lurking in the back of her mind ever since her journey; both spirits had been confident she was unobserved. “Why didn’t you scry me when I was travelling?”

Taerelle smiled to herself. “I had no need to; you were being watched.”

By Filaurel? Her mentor had told Almon about what’d happened…

“I’m only concerned when you’re unsupervised and unoccupied.” Taerelle gestured to the forge and then to papers Saphienne held. “Just keep yourself busy — or I’ll be forced to find work for idle hands.”

 

* * *

 

Reassured by what she had learned, Saphienne went directly to visit Celaena, intent on hiding the ring somewhere deep within her home.

She had first concluded that the sanctum of a highly respected wizard was an inconceivable place to find the missing band — which could cause even potent Divination spells to fail. Now that Taerelle had confirmed the home was warded, Saphienne was confident her solution would be perfect.

There was, however, something she’d missed.

Saphienne was kept waiting on the doorstep, long enough that she suspected her friend wasn’t home. Hanging around until Celaena arrived would only provoke awkward questions, but every hour that Saphienne held on to the ring risked being exposed by an exploratory divination. Perhaps she could bury it in–

The pealing bell in the foyer startled her as the door flew open.

“Saphienne! Get inside, now!” Celaena held ready the Rod of Repulsion. “Someone’s prowling through the gardens!”

Saphienne closed her eyes. Of course the ring had triggered an alarm — any sensible wizard would want to know when a veiling enchantment approached their sanctum, whether or not that enchantment was presently in use.

“Saphienne!”

She somehow found the will to live. “…Celaena,” she managed, “I’ve made a terrible mistake…”

 

* * *

 

“Why not just admit you forgot?”

Saphienne was sat on the staircase with Celaena, the ring between them.

“Because I’ve wasted everyone’s time,” she insisted. “I accidentally put it on when we were travelling home — and the Wardens of the Wilds followed us.”

Celaena tilted her head. “Why did you put it on?”

She saw no choice but to deceive her. “I didn’t intend to; I was rummaging through my satchel when I felt something, and I lifted it out on my fingertip.”

The echoes of the lie died away as Celaena studied her.

“…I don’t believe you.”

Saphienne blinked.

Celaena carefully lifted the ring as she spoke. “I know what’s actually going on here, Saphienne.” She brushed the ferns as though tracing the truth. “You found it in your pocket on the way back, and you decided you’d be really clever, and that you’d lead the wardens away from those goblins.”

Saphienne blinked again. “How did you–”

“You felt sorry for them.” The older girl pursed her lips as their eyes met. “And you’re not the sort of person to hold back when you see a way to help. I don’t believe you’d feel this and not recognise it. You’re too quick for that.”

Overlooking the black tiles as though peering upon the night, Saphienne was forced to recognise that Celaena knew her better than she’d imagined…

Her friend exhaled. “I’m just glad you came to me. Faylar would have gone straight to his mother; Laewyn would want to lose it somewhere in the forest; and Iolas would talk you into giving it back.”

…And that she’d underestimated Celaena. “You don’t think I should?”

“No!” Celaena clenched her fist around the ring. “If I figured out what you’re up to? Our master will know right away — and you’ll lose your apprenticeship.” Her stare sought out a solution on the high ceiling. “And we can’t just drop it for him to find… he’ll augur how it ended up there…”

Upset with herself, for many different reasons, Saphienne hunched forward. “…I’m sorry for lying to you.”

“You were just keeping me out of it.” Celaena shifted closer to her. “The less I knew about what you were up to, the better.”

Saphienne’s chest ached. “You’re not angry with me?”

“I’m angry you risked everything on some goblins.” Celaena clasped her wrist. “But I’m not angry that you came to me for help; you’re my friend. At least you brought me into things, this ti– Saphienne? Oh, stop. You’ll make me cry, too…”

 

* * *

 

When Celaena had finished fussing over Saphienne, the older girl pocketed the ring. “I know where to hide this — not even father will find it.”

“Where will you–”

“In the sealed branch; in his old sanctum.” Celaena blushed. “He left one of the windows unlatched. Father only locked the door because he wants to surprise me — he’s prepared it all for me to use, once I’ve proven I can cast spells. There’s a set of dark grey robes laid out for me…”

Saphienne felt weightless. “Are you sure? Couldn’t we bury it in the garden?”

“What if our master asks the Luminary Vale for help? What if they breach the wards? They’ll ask why the alarm never rang.” Celaena shook her head. “Better to lock it in the storage cupboard, on top of the disused wardrobe, and pretend it doesn’t exist. We can get rid of it once everyone’s forgotten.”

Her solution was close to what Saphienne had intended. “What will you say if someone does breach the wards?”

Celaena pondered for a moment, then giggled. “I’ll claim one of the crows found it! I’ll say I thought no one would ever believe how I got it… so I decided to hide it, until I could show it to father and ask him for help.”

“That’s… too implausible to sound like a lie.” She was impressed.

“Father might guess — but he won’t dispute me in public.” Celaena squeezed Saphienne’s hand. “I won’t tell him the truth. I won’t even mention this to Laewyn: this will be our secret.”

Stolen novel; please report.

Saphienne’s eyes began to water again. “Celaena… why are you helping me?”

With a sigh that carried enduring affection, Celaena pulled her into a hug. “I told you before — birds of a feather flock together. Weren’t you listening?”

 

* * *

 

Ironically, Saphienne would soon spend a lot of time listening very carefully.

Taerelle was irritable when next they met, her efforts to locate the missing ring utterly stymied. She was less annoyed the day after — when she revealed that Almon had been forced to admit defeat. Then none of the diviners he brought together had any success, either, and finally word came down from the Luminary Vale that an assembly of specialists had spent all night trying to fathom how the divinations kept failing, to no avail. The matter was considered beneath the attention of the High Masters… which Saphienne took to mean the collective wizards and sorcerers were too embarrassed to bother them.

“As impossible as it seems,” Taerelle concluded, “our master thinks the goblins must have broken it. Gods know how they managed that…”

In contrast to her theorised act of destruction, Saphienne’s progress in creating the fittings and outfits was proceeding apace. She was increasingly confident that all would be well come summertime.

 

* * *

 

Yet, despite all her wiles and luck, and as much as she tried to wriggle out of it, there was one punishment Saphienne simply couldn’t avoid.

On the evening when the consensus of the local woodlands was to convene, Saphienne arrived at the meeting hall just before the doors closed. The bored man inside pointed her toward the stairs. “Unaccompanied children sit in the gallery.”

“I’m here to–”

But he had already wandered into the auditorium.

She peered through the curtained doorway after him, seeing that the rows of seats circling the hall were mostly full. Filaurel was already sitting at a table on the central stage in her role as secretary, and Saphienne could tell from the raised hands and idle chatter that the consensus was confirming who would chair the meeting.

Perhaps a better vantagepoint would be useful; she climbed the stairs three at a time, and emerged onto a sloping upper level that was much emptier, seeing two adults sat right in the front row. She walked down the steps toward them with her eyes on the only other person on the mezzanine.

“Celaena.” Saphienne kept her voice low as she slid onto the chair beside her. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

Her fellow apprentice started where she was sitting, dropping the paper bag of sweets she’d concealed up her sleeve. She reddened. “I’m here for Laewyn… she’s down there with Lensa.”

Scooping up the unspilled confectionary, Saphienne glanced at the nearby adults, seeing a man and woman whom she didn’t know.

The woman stopped knitting to scowl. “We’re not supposed to bring food in…”

But the man next to her lifted up the book on his lap to reveal a wooden bowl, and both adults grinned conspiratorially at the girls as his partner helped herself to a sugary biscuit.

He winked. “We won’t tell if you won’t…”

Saphienne smothered her laughter as she passed the bag back to Celaena.

An enchantment carried Filaurel’s voice from below, where she spoke into a polished amethyst. “Consensus has been reached: Jorildyn is recognised as chair, and Lyndis is recognised as assistant chair. The meeting will convene.”

Scattered applause accompanied the pair as they joined the secretary. Jorildyn was wearing an unusually resplendent outfit in red that he had tailored to emphasise his slender figure, and he bowed to the audience behind and in front of the stage before he sat. He lifted another Stone of Speaking, gently blowing against it to ensure it was active. “Well now: I call this meeting of our consensus to order. We’ve a lot of business to get through tonight, so let’s try to keep this to four or five hours, shall we?”

The dismay that arose from the audience suggested he wasn’t joking.

“Standard items first…” He glanced to Filaurel. “…The minutes of the last meeting were posted. Would anyone like to ask for clarifications, or shall we proceed to adopt–”

Someone behind the stage raised their hand, and everyone sitting in front groaned aloud as they pointed to draw Jorildyn’s attention.

Celaena leant over to Saphienne. “Have you ever been before?”

Saphienne shook her head. “No; but I know the rules.”

“Of course you do…” The older girl smirked. “The meeting won’t get really going for another quarter of an hour — everyone has to get fed up before they start taking it seriously.”

“Are they usually this well attended?”

“Gods no. This is just because the agenda for the summer festival is being finalised. They’re all here to complain about what’s been left out, or what shouldn’t have been included…”

“Poor Filaurel,” Saphienne said. “She’s going to be talking all night.”

“Poor you,” Celaena countered. “You’re doing most of the writing…”

Meanwhile, a meandering question had been asked, and Filaurel had exercised great diplomacy in clarifying that the questioner was actually referring to events that had happened at the meeting before last. Jorildyn confirmed there were no more questions, then proceeded to call a vote to accept the minutes, asking for those in favour – which prompted most of the audience to raise their hands – and then for those against.

Celaena giggled at the lonely dissenter. “There’s always one who has to be contrary.”

Jorildyn visibly steeled himself. “We now move to the agenda– wait a moment, please. I appreciate that everyone is raring to begin, but if you could all sit back down? Thank you. This is not the agenda for the festival, but the agenda for this meeting, which has been circulated in advance.” He took a deep breath. “Before I ask for the agenda to be proposed, are there any validly constituted amendments to be raised?”

A richly enunciated cough rolled through the hall.

The tailor had been expecting this. “The chair recognises Master Almon.”

Saphienne and Celaena craned forward, seeing that their master had stood from his place adjacent to the main aisle. His voice was attenuated by a spell that glimmered across his ostentatious sapphire robes in motes of gold and indigo. “If it pleases our consensus: I would like to propose an amendment to the proposed agenda of this meeting to add a new amendment to the agenda for the festival, and to reorder the agenda of this meeting so that the new amendment to the agenda for the festival is discussed first.”

Already, Saphienne could tell she would have a headache before the night was done.

Yet Jorildyn put on a pleasant smile. “You certainly may, Master Almon. But before I proceed to ask for a seconder to your proposal, can I confirm: under which provision of the Rules of Order for Reaching Consensus you are raising this proposal?”