Magic Steps - Пирс Тамора - Страница 10

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"Easily." Lark toyed with her teacup. "And the stronger the pattern, the more things can go wrong. What if this Pasco had not followed the net so faithfully? A wrong step that broke the net magic might have driven all the fish from the sea for miles. What if he'd thought of pretty girls as he danced? He could have called all the girls of Summersea to him, whether they wished to be called or not. You're absolutely right. Pasco must be taught."

"So I'll bring him to the school here." Sandry felt better immediately: a decision had been reached.

Lark shook her head. "It's not that simple. Temple and university mages follow laws and guidelines, some of which you know. On the subject of new mages, the law is set. If no teacher with the same power is available, the discovering mage has to teach the newcomer the basics."

Sandry laughed. "But the discovering mage is me."

Lark nodded gravely.

"I'm just a kid myself," Sandry pointed out, using street slang for child. "I can’t teach him. I have to keep an eye on Uncle."

"You can and you must teach," said Lark firmly. "The Winding Circle Initiate Council or the mage council at the university in Lightsbridge enact penalties on a mage who shirks her responsibility."

Sandry sat bolt upright in her chair. "And if I do not recognize their authority?" she demanded, offended by the idea that these strangers might try to control her life.

Lark laid a hand over hers. "If you did not follow the rules, then as a great mage of the Winding Circle Initiate Council it would be my task to teach you your duty."

Sandry blinked at her. She knew that Lark—and Rosethorn, when she was home—often attended what they always referred to as "council meetings." She had always assumed they were meetings of the Dedicate Council that governed the temple city, not a council of temple mages.

"Mages without law are dangerous," Lark said. "What if there were no Duke to rule in Emelan? If he just vanished, with no heir appointed?"

"Someone else would take his position," replied Sandry hesitantly. It hurt her heart to think of it.

"After bloodshed," Lark pointed out. "After civil war. Councils ensure that our people have someone to answer to, as Emelan answers to his grace. Other parts of the world have their own ways to hinder rogue mages."

"I don't know how to teach," complained Sandry.

"It hasn't been that long since you learned the basics," Lark said firmly. "Start with those. Go through your uncle's library. Talk to merchants and nobles—see if any of them have ever heard of dance-mages. And he'll need a dance teacher. If he's from a lower-class family, he'll know jigs, country dances, and wedding dances, but little else. Learning new dances will help to keep him out of mischief, and create a direction for his power." Bending down, she picked her workbasket up from the floor. It was filled with clothes—she dumped them on the table. "If you'll take the stitching out, I'll cut these into patches for a quilt," she told Sandry. "One of the East District families wants the father to have a quilt made of their old things when he takes ship in the spring."

"That's sweet," remarked Sandry, pulling a tattered shirt toward her. Turning it inside out, she laid her fingers along one of the seams and called to the thread that held it closed. The thread began to wriggle free, twining around her index finger like a vine. Watching it slither out of the cloth, Sandry remembered the most vexatious part of her conversations with Pasco.

"He seems to think his family won't let him learn magic," she pointed out to Lark, drawing out the threads that tacked the cuffs to the shirt. "He says it would be different if he had a talent for provost's magic, but his family won't hear of dancing magic—as if it's a toy that Pasco might pick up. I don't understand it."

"You see this in a lot of guild families and in the noble houses," Lark replied, cutting a worn skirt into squares. "And from what I heard of the Acalons when I lived in the Mire, they've served the provost for generations. They're practical people. Still, they aren't fools. Once they realize Pasco is a genuine mage, they'll know he must be taught." She put her scissors down and gazed at Sandry. "Of course, they may take it better if they hear it from you."

The girl sighed. The last thread came out of the collar, leaving the shirt in pieces on the table before her. She stacked them up and put them aside, drawing a pair of breeches out of the pile. "I really think he should be the one to tell them. He might as well get in the habit of owning up to his magic, after all." Once she had turned the breeches inside out, she saw these were better made than the shirt, with the ends of the thread all hidden inside the hems. She glared at the cloth. All the sewing-threads jumped out of the material in a hundred pieces, flying across the room.

Lark hid a smile behind her hand and remarked quietly, "That seems like a dreadful waste of thread."

Sandry nodded wryly, and lifted her hands. It took several calls to get the scattered pieces to return. Once she had them, she scooped them into a mound on the table. She petted them gently for a moment until they ceased to tremble. When the bits of thread were calm, she sent her power cautiously through each fiber. As the mound wriggled and shifted, she confessed, "I don't know how I'm going to get him to like the idea of magic."

"Of course you do," Lark said, picking up a square of cloth in one hand and her scissors in the other. "It sounds like your Pasco is dying to dance. Lure him in by telling him he gets to learn new dances to use with his power. Of course, he'll have to practice a great deal—but I'll wager he wants to practice dancing. You just need to weave the two lessons into one, and I know you can do that.»

Sandry looked up at her teacher and grinned. She had a feeling Lark was exactly right. "Are you sure someone else can't teach him?" she asked, though she was fairly certain of the answer.

Lark grinned back at her, "It seems to me that teaching will be a very good discipline for you, too," she replied, mock-serious. "Mila knows it was good for me."

"Was it hard, teaching magic?" Sandry wanted to know.

Lark nodded. "But I was older than you, and much more set in my ways," she pointed out. "And I was so new to my own magic, coming to it late as I did, that I was convinced I was leaving out something important. I'll tell you what Vetiver told me: don't forget that Winding Circle is nearby. If you get stuck, ask questions." She gathered up her scraps and put them aside. "Personally," she added, "I think Pasco is very lucky to have you for a teacher. I think you're going to be very good at it."

"I only hope I'm as good as you one day," Sandry remarked softly. "You were so patient with me."

Lark shook her head. "You give me too much credit. It was very easy to be patient with you, and an absolute joy to teach you."

Sandry looked down, blushing with pleasure. Hearing that from Lark meant a great deal to her. Lark was pleas ant, but she also didn't believe in compliments unless they were earned.

When Sandry checked the heap of thread-bits, she saw they had woven themselves into one strand. Now they arranged themselves in a polite coil, as if they wanted to show Sandry they could behave. "Thank you," she told them. "You did that very nicely, and I'm sorry I frightened you before."

She didn't notice Lark's smile. She was thinking, Thread minds me—why can't Pasco? That wasn't entirely fair, and she knew it. This thread came from sheep, who were docile enough if you kept after them. Silk thread would have been harder to control, since the caterpillars that spun silk worked only for themselves.

Remembering her friend Briar at Pasco's age, Sandry wondered if he'd been as deliberately ignorant as Pasco was this afternoon. Briar hadn't been. He could be infuriating, and difficult, and independent, but he was also a realist. He would never argue when someone had pointed out something obvious, like his magic. That made her wonder, was it Briar who'd been unusual for his age, or the boy she had met today?

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