The 9th of Aggrave, Year 373 P.R.F. (High Lunar Cycle)

  The Cetimos Ministry of Summoning’s Testing and Isolation Facility #2, on the outskirts of Drebos Altimas

  Despite my assurances, Rudolpho still looked concerned. He rose from his chair, and I moved to do the same, but he waved me back to my seat. Rummaging through a nearby drawer, he selected one of the objects I’d examined in my earlier cataloging efforts, but hadn’t been able to identify. This one was a small, heavy metal hook. It was about the breadth of Rudolpho’s hand, and had no points or sharp edges to it. It looked too plain to be some kind of decorative object, but I struggled to imagine any functional purpose for such a thing, either.

  Object in hand, Rudolpho now took a small key from a pouch on his belt, unlocking one of the cabinets I hadn’t been able to open, one set almost directly across from me in this small circle of outdoor furniture. When the cabinet door swung open, it revealed… just some ordinary-looking drinking glasses. Granted, they appeared to be of a matched set and formed of cut glass, but I still wasn’t sure why they might be under lock and key, when so little else was.

  Turning back to face me with one of the drinking glasses in hand, Rudolpho hooked his odd metal implement over one edge of the glass, and began silently channelling magic. A small stream of water originated from the metal, seemingly-magical tool, and the glass was swiftly filled.

  Rudolpho crouched slightly before me and offered me the glass. “Here, something to drink,” he urged, a small smile once again on his lips, despite the lingering concern in his voice.

  I’m not entirely sure why I did what I did next, but I took the glass from his hand and raised the rim to my nose, and took a sniff.

  *Nothing but pure water.*

  Rudolpho winced as I did so, as if he understood what I was up to better than I did. Between that and my earlier confusion, I was feeling very awkward, and drank deeply to try and smooth things over.

  I don’t know if it was actually the result of drinking something, or just having that opportunity to pause and refocus while watching Rudolpho put it together in the first place, but I was feeling noticeably better. Much more like my old self.

  I was also curious about one other aspect - the water had been quite cool, almost chilly to drink. So I asked Rudolpho, “Is there a reason you chose to make the water so cold?”

  By this point, Rudolpho was now sitting in his chair again, sipping water much more slowly from his own glass. Lowering his drink to rest atop his chair’s arm, he seemed grateful to have something new to discuss. “Oh? Now that suggests an interesting assumption or two. I’m curious as to why you phrased your question that way.

  “But to actually answer your question, I didn’t change the temperature of the water at all. This tool,” he paused, gently tapping on the metal hook now sitting forgotten on top of the opened cabinet, “this tool is linked to a cistern deep within the tower, which is where we collect and store all of the water we use while we’re here. Deep underground and surrounded by stone, we can count on the water to always be cold when we draw it from the cistern. I could have used some additional magic to have warmed it when it was in the glass, but I thought something cool and refreshing might serve us both well right now.”

  I nodded my understanding, but then asked, “So why use magic to draw water from the cistern like that? Is it more efficient in terms of magic?”

  Grin growing wider, Rudolpho leaned forward, eyes twinkling, “More efficient compared to what?”

  Puzzled by his eagerness, I suggested, “Than simply using that magic to create the water you need?”

  And with that, Rudolpho’s grin threatened to split his face in two. Slapping his knee, he exclaimed, “Because I cannot! No spell, no force of magic in this world can! Move it, shape it, freeze or boil it? Certainly, and with ease. But our magic can never create water. It is one of the most fundamental basics all of our spellcasters must learn as part of the very beginning of our training. We must acknowledge that limit early, so that we can direct our studies to all the different ways we can work around that limitation.”

  Leaning forward again, and still just as manic, he pressed, “But what of you, Secia? As I mentioned before, the ritual balance of the summoner’s bond should allow you to use whatever abilities you already possess in much the same ways you’re already used to. And nowhere is that more true but when it comes to applications of pure spellcasting itself. Even when it breaks the rules of what our own magic can and can’t do!”

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  He didn’t end his exclamation by panting, but such was his intensity that I almost couldn’t picture him not being short of breath somehow, despite the reality I was observing. Startled, I shook my head “no”.

  But instead of seeming disappointed, his focus showed no signs of wavering. “What about other things with a physical form? Air, earth, metal, food? Whether in finished goods or raw materials makes no difference. Is there anything at all you and your spells can do to create something real, something physical and tangible, and have it last?”

  It was such a broad question, I nearly shook my head again by reflex. But doing my best to think it through, “I’m not exactly sure if something like this is what you have in mind, but…”

  And with a small gesture of my hand, I tried to cast an actual spell for the first time since I’d been summoned.

  Tried to. And failed.

  Rudolpho hadn’t seemed to pick up yet that something was wrong. He continued to wait eagerly, perhaps thinking I needed more time to finish. I wasn’t sure why it wasn’t already obvious I had failed; I wasn’t actively channelling any magic at all. It was only then that I recalled Rudolpho mentioning he couldn’t perceive someone channelling magic to begin with unless he was to cast a particular spell of his own. I’m not sure why he wouldn’t have that spell running now if he was asking me to…

  *Now is not the time for this.*

  Right. Right. Okay, right. My magic. What am I doing wrong? New world, new circumstances, so lets go back to my own basics. How do I cast a spell?

  Wait, how do I cast a spell?

  *Wait, just how do I cast a spell?*

  Trying not to let any of my mounting desperation show on my face, I tried to focus harder and harder on the question, but it was like groping blindly to search for a lost sewing needle in a fog bank. There seemed to be nothing for me to examine, nothing for me to navigate by, not by sight or sound or even a vague guess as to the right direction.

  “Ahem. I hope we’re not interrupting?”

  Startled by the sound of Hesra’s voice, I all but whipped my head around. There, standing at the top of that open staircase that led back down into the tower’s interior, stood Lady Elutria, tight lipped and looking slightly away. And a half step behind her and to one side was Hesra, patiently looking on.

  What? How? When?

  Utterly confused by their sudden appearance, I half rose, half stumbled from my chair. And as I did so, I felt a sort of wrenching, twisting feeling behind one of my ribs. A sudden sense of clutching tightness, quickly released. It was an utterly foreign sensation to me. But simultaneously, there was a quiet *pop*, and on the ground at my feet was a familiar open-topped wicker tray, upon which sat eight crisp rolls of tightly wrapped linen. A sight I’d seen a million times before: “Emergency Bandages”, the healer’s spell I’d been attempting to cast.

  *****

  I still felt entirely off-balance. I wasn’t sure if I should sit back down or remain standing. Ask Hesra what they were doing here or show the results of my conjuration to Rudolpho.

  Rudolpho rose to his own feet, helping put to rest the “sit or stand” question, at least for now. Showing no outward sign of the earlier frevor with which he’d so recently been gripped, he calmly asked, “Hello Lady Elutria, hello Hesra. Do you need something?”

  “Lady Elutria has something she’d like to say. Isn’t that right?”

  “…I’m sorry.” Lady Elutria said it so softly, I wasn’t entirely sure she had said anything at all.

  “My lady?” Hesra spoke aloud. Her words might have implied a question of some kind, but her tone was pure steel and very much argued the opposite.

  Back stiff, arms rigidly straight and pressed to her side, hands in near-fists, giving every impression of wishing to clutch at the fabric of her robe but not quite doing so, she remained silent for a beat, but then choked out, “…I’m sorry for what I said at breakfast.”

  “Why are you sorry? Why are you apologizing?” Hesra continued to prompt.

  “Because I was…”, teeth clenched, she sucked in a small breath, “…wrong. I was wrong. I shouldn’t have said it. I shouldn’t have acted that way.”

  I almost assumed that was the end of it, but apparently Hesra wasn’t done. “What else?”

  But nothing further seemed to be forthcoming. Then, Lady Elutria shook slightly, and I now realized that Hesra had had an arm up behind Lady Elutria’s back - and her hand was gently gripping the younger woman by the back of her neck. “What else, my lady summoner?” Hesra’s voice was so cold, and had laden so much cutting sarcasm into that title that I felt my own self shiver in reflex.

  Lady Elutria quietly gasped, as if desperate for air. In one final rush, she finished, “I’m sorry for the way I’ve been treating you. It was wrong. I was wrong to do it. I…” another little shake from Hesra, “…I hope we can find a way to start over.”

  “There now, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” And I’m not sure who was more surprised, me or Lady Elutria, when Hesra spun the young woman around and enveloped her in a hug.

  Rudolpho nodded approvingly, but I wasn’t so sure what I should do. My indecision only worsened when all eyes swiveled to me. Waiting. Silently, expectantly waiting.

  I could not recall ever being put in a situation even remotely like this. Am I… am I supposed to forgive her now?

  *Do I want to?*

  It might… it might be the right thing to do.

  *So what? Am I really just going to let everyone sweep this under a rug? To forget about it? To let “bygones be bygones”?*

  Does it actually matter what I want? It didn’t really seem like it had mattered so much what Lady Elutria had wanted, either. It was Hesra who pushed that apology to happen.

  I almost suspect I added that last bit, about Hesra’s involvement, to sort of… give myself an out? Which was an unfamiliar idea in itself. But instead, it oddly made me feel much more at ease about the idea of forgiving Lady Elutria. I still wasn’t exactly happy about it, but I was at least a little more open to the idea of giving her yet another chance.

  So aloud, I said, “I’m not exactly sure how you and I can start over, but I’m willing to try.”

  Lady Elutria didn’t exactly shoot daggers at me with her eyes when I said that, but I noticed she didn’t appear all that relieved or visibly pleased by my acceptance of her apology, either.