Maggie Furey - Aurian

“Nonsense. It’s better to run away on a full stomach than an empty one, I always say.”

“How did you know?” The words were out before she could stop them.

He shrugged. “It’s fairly obvious. I shouldn’t try the cliff, though. Nobody has managed it yet, and it will just be a mess when you’re splattered on those rocks at the bottom.”

Aurian stared at him, defeated. A single tear trickled down her cheek.

“Come along,” the old man said kindly. “Have some supper and tell me all about it. Perhaps I can help you.”

Aurian had never drunk wine before. Somehow she ended up with the lion’s share of the flask, and it loosened her tongue. Before long he had coaxed from her the whole story of her life, ending with the difficulties and misery of her time at the Academy. The old man listened gravely, slipping in a question from time to time. He even gave her his handkerchief when her tears began to fall once more. When she had finished, he held out his hand. “Come with me,” he said gently. “It’s time that matters were set to rights.”

Aurian’s childhood injunctions about not going away with strangers were screaming warnings at her, but the old gardener was the nearest thing she had to a friend. Obediently she followed him across the garden and out through the postern door. It was only when they reached the Mages’ Tower that Aurian faltered. The old fool was insane!

“I can’t!” she gasped. “Eliseth is in there, and—and the Archmage!” She tried to pull away from him, but he held her firmly, his dark eyes burning into hers.

“My dear child, have you not guessed yet? I am the Archmage!”

Aurian almost fainted. She had been complaining bitterly about the Academy to the Archmage himself! He had caught her trying to run away and trespassing in his private garden. She couldn’t speak, and she was trembling so hard that her legs threatened to give way beneath her.

Miathan put a steadying arm around her shoulders. “Don’t be afraid, child,” he said. “If anyone is punished over this business, it will certainly not be you.” Still Aurian hung back, frightened by the sudden steel in his voice. The Archmage looked down at her and sighed. “Come along, girl,” he said testily. “I won’t turn you 4sto a toad. But I will turn you into a first-class Mage!” And he smiled at her. It was such a dazzling, kind smile that Aurian’s fears vanished like melting snow.

When they reached his rooms, the Archmage summoned a sleepy servant and ordered a second, far more sumptuous supper for them. He seated Aurian in a soft chair by the fire while he changed from his patched old gardening clothes into the splendid scarlet robes of his office. She gazed around the chamber while she waited, awed by the richness of the splendid furnishings, the deep soft carpet, and the gold-stitched tapestries that decorated the walls. Why, this place was fit for a king! It was a far, far cry from her cramped, bare little cell on the bottom floor.

The food arrived with amazing promptness, considering that the kitchen workers must have been hauled from their beds to prepare it. Aurian gazed, bewildered, at the tempting array —far too much for two people. She wondered, nervously, if she’d be expected to eat it all. And the food itself! Eilin had little time to cook, so her meals had been good but simple— and Eliseth seemed to think that bread and milk was enough for her to live on. Now she was faced with meats covered in rich sauces, and vegetables and fruits prepared in a wildly elaborate fashion. To her embarrassment, Aurian had no idea what do with some of the exotically shaped foodstuffs. Should she pick them up in her fingers, or would that be a breach of manners? Miathan, however, seemed aware of her predicament. He insisted on serving her himself, and explaining the complicated dishes to her whenever he saw her hesitate. Encouraged by his kindness and helped by the wine, which was beginning to make her head spin, Aurian began to relax and enjoy her food. It had been ages since she had eaten a proper meal.

As they ate, Miathan explained that there had been a misunderstanding, and that from now on, he would supervise her training personally.

Aurian went suddenly cold. “But—but Eliseth says I’m useless,” she confessed, shamefaced.

Miathan raised his eyebrows. “What? Geraint and Eilin’s daughter useless? I don’t believe it!” Reaching out a hand, he snuffed the single candle that burned in a silver holder in the center of the table. The room was suddenly plunged into shadow, the only light coming from’the roaring flames in the fireplace. “Aurian, will you light the candle for me? I can’t see to eat,” the Archmage said.

Aurian’s mind went blank with panic. The more she tried to focus her scattered thoughts, the worse it became. What would he do to her if she failed? Suddenly Miathan’s strong hand closed around hers, and his warm voice cut through the chaos in her mind.

“Relax, child. Think of the flame. Picture it in your mind. It’s only a glowing spot at first, clinging to the wick. Then the wax on the wick starts to melt and splutter—you can smell it— and the little flame starts to blossom and grow . . .”

Aurian’s eyes widened. It was happening! A soft pool of light crept toward the edges of the room as her little flame caught and expanded. “I did it!” she yelled triumphantly— then clamped her hand over her mouth in horror as a roaring column of fire, responding to her euphoria, shot up from the candle to scorch the ceiling. “Oh!” Aurian damped the flame automatically, as she had done so often with her fireballs at home, and shrank away from Miathan. “I’m sorry,” she whispered fearfully.

The Archmage threw back his head and roared with laughter. “Well,” he spluttered, “I asked for that! I see that I shall have to be very careful about my requests to you in future!”

Aurian was dumbfounded. “You mean—it’s all right? But I just ruined your ceiling!”

“Never mind the ceiling, my dear. The servants will soon put it right,” Miathan said. “More important, you’ve proved that, far from being hopeless, you have a very powerful talent at your disposal. All we need do is teach you to summon it— which you managed very well, once I explained how to do it— and control it. You failed to break your link with the flame, you see, and it was simply responding to your emotions.”

“Will you show me how?” Aurian asked eagerly,

Miathan smiled. “Aren’t you tired? It’s very late.”

“Tired? No, not a bit. It’s all so-—” Aunan’s voice was swallowed in a huge yawn.

The Archmage held out his hand. “Come along,” he said. “You can sleep in my bed tonight, and in the morning, I’ll arrange to have you moved. There’s a set of empty rooms on the floor below—they belonged to your father, as a matter of fact. We’ll be working very closely together in future, so I’ll want you near me. How does that suit?”

“Oh, thank you!” In an excess of gratitude, Aurian threw her arms around Miathan’s neck and hugged him. For a nervous moment she wondered if she had gone too far, but then she saw that his stern old face was beaming. It was in that instant that Aurian came to love him. She fell asleep in his great canopied bed feeling happier and more secure than she had done in months, and instead of Forral’s, it was Miathan’s face that filled her last drowsy thoughts,

A knock on the door interrupted Miathan’s contemplation of the sleeping young girl. Sighing, he left the bedchamber, closing the door quietly behind him. As he had expected, his visitor was Eliseth. “Could it not wait until morning?” he said crossly.

Eliseth walked across to the fire and warmed her hands. “I couldn’t sleep. I wanted to know how it went.”