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Later that night, Ciardis sat alone at her desk, studying. She had to catch up on all the practical material Damias had given her.
The focus of the Practicals shifted between the magical and the mundane every week, which made her happy—she never knew what was next. They had flown through mind-focusing for memory retention, mind-shielding—Note to self: get better at it, Patricia kicked your ass today, she thought—and Sahalian texts. This week was mathematics, which she found quite interesting.
Damias had also stressed the importance of being able to take over the operation of her Patron's manor from the start. At the moment, she had to go over a keep's ledger – the book in which all financial transactions were kept. It included everything from overall maintenance of the building: mason work, caulking, and wood floor replacements, to purchase of grain for winter use and payment to household staff members. Next she had to review a merchant's cost estimate for new upholstery for all of the furniture throughout the entire manor, rework each of the merchant’s estimate, calculate the totals and compare them to the head butler’s own calculations for errors. All she could say was that these nobles must have some truly dodgy financiers. The errors were astronomical and from the inflated figures Ciardis saw once she’d compared the merchant’s cost estimates and the head butler’s figures – it was clear that the head butler was skimming a profit off of the top.
The comparisons took her close to two hours to complete, and then she lit a lamp to practice some simple katas for her defense tutorials. She worked hard day and night, not just to impress Damias and Serena, but also to ensure that she would be selected by a patron.
The prospect of the selection haunted her dreams and waking thoughts alike. She had yet to manifest her Weathervane powers, and no matter how many times she reread the book section that told her the powers would arrive only after her eighteenth birthday—if they ever did—she was still impatient. The what-ifs and doubts clouded her mind, making her belly tense with worry even in slumber. What made it worse was that her eighteenth birthday was just two weeks before the Patron Hunt was set to begin.
She had two weeks to master her powers—if they came in at all. Not very reassuring.
She soon noticed that she was throwing off her katas in her worry, and decided to go to bed. Nothing more could be accomplished tonight.
By the end of the week in her Dance class, even Damias could tell something was wrong. She could see that, but it was equally clear that he had wanted to wait and see if she could overcome whatever was troubling her before asking about it.
They were dancing a complicated quartet pattern. Serena had been kind enough to provide a set of ghostly partners for each of them.
As Ciardis wavered for the fifth time under her airy partner's guidance, Damias, ever the gentleman, signaled that he wanted to change partners. When Damias and Ciardis came together for their dance, the two ghostly partners Serena had provided dissipated as if they’d never been there. The dance of four became a dance of two with Damias leading, holding Ciardis's left hand high and wrapping an arm around her waist. They eased into a simple two-step and whirled about the ballroom to the tune of a small magical music ball playing violas in the corner. Serena, her job done and her airy visions dissipated, had pulled out a pamphlet and begun to read.
Ciardis was pretty sure that the previous dance had been invented just to show off the richness of the dancers' clothing. She was glad it was over. This one was a bit more sedate; at certain parts of the dance when Ciardis was required to look away from her partner, she was able to get a look at Serena's literature. It appeared to be a lady's pamphlet on facial powder. I'll have to ask Serena if I can borrow it, she thought excitedly. Then it struck her like a blow that only a few months before, such a thing would never have occurred to her, to desire makeup, to wear gowns and jewels. Those had been fantastic figments of every laundress’s imagination.
But alongside the painful desire to continue in this lifestyle of luxury was the near certain feeling she had that she’d fail to manifest her powers. That, in turn, brought the issue of her powers—or lack thereof—back to the forefront of her mind, and from there it was just a downhill emotional spiral.
As the dance ended, Damias said with a chuckle, "You've done well. But you need to learn to focus on what your partner is saying with his or her body. Then you'll know which way to turn your body."
"I know," said Ciardis. "It's just difficult to read my partner’s cues when they're nothing but ghostly shapes."
Damias grinned. "If you can learn to master the dances with a visual partner with no physical presence, then you'll be able to read the cues of a real partner with no problem."
Ciardis nodded and prepared for the next set of dance instructions. As Damias demonstrated with moving hands and flowing movements, Ciardis tried to fake a smile, but when he turned to her, a silent tear betrayed her feelings.
Damias frowned and brought his hands down. "Clearly this is about more than a dance. Sit. Let's talk." He folded himself gracefully into a crossed-legged position on the ballroom floor. Ciardis followed, tucking her legs under her in the proper ladylike equivalent of his position.
"It's my powers..." Ciardis said, her eyes closed in shame. "They haven't manifested yet. If they don't, all the Patrons will rescind their invitations."
"Ciardis," said Damias softly, "You know as well as I do that female Weathervanes have to wait longer for their powers; they invariably mature after their eighteenth birthdays. And it can take even longer. My partner's powers didn't even come in until her twenty-first birthday, and she's a Fire Master!"
"Yes," said Ciardis, sniffling, "But your partner is Linda Firelancer! She's...she's Imperial!"
"And does that make her different?" Damias asked.
Ciardis issued a trembling smile as he handed her his handkerchief. "I guess not." With a gulp, she looked at him. "What if I really am mundane, though? Or what if Sarah was wrong, or—"
Damias cut off her tirade with an upraised eyebrow. "Do you honestly think I would waste my time on anyone without potential? There is no way, my dear, that you are anything less than worthy of a full-fledged Patron Hunt. Besides," he said with a cocky grin, "Sarah is never wrong, and if she ever heard you say that she might be, she'd tear you a new hide."
Ciardis laughed.
"Now, I want you to take the rest of the day off. No tutorials, no family history. Just be you!" he said rising gracefully and extending a hand to help her up.
She nodded, taking his hand and pulling herself to her feet.
As she was about turn away, he said, "Also, your patron interview is scheduled for tomorrow. All you need to do to prepare is be relaxed. The panel will be there to help you, guide you, and answer any questions you might have."
Relax, he tells me, Ciardis thought with an inward sigh as she headed back to the dorms. Easy for him to say.
She reached her room, a pensive expression on her face as she unlocked the door. She hesitated in the middle of the huge space, thinking about what she should do next. There was no way for her to study for the patron interview tomorrow because no assignments had been given for it and no one would tell her what it involved. She bit her lip. She'd been meaning to get a second primer from the market in the Bookbinders' District, but this week had been so busy that she'd had no time. She was already done with the first reader's primer, though, and was ready to move on to the second. Mind made up to enjoy the day and pick up another primer, she grabbed a scarf to wrap around her hair in the fashion of the season and a few coins for some small purchases.
With glee, she caught a tuk-tuk—a small three-wheeled conveyance that she delighted in—at the gates of the Companions’ Guild and headed off into the city. It was an unseasonably warm winter, even by Sandrin standards. Usually, heavy rains came in off the sea around this time of year, but that was not so today. The heat was almost sweltering.
Deciding on her first order of business, she spotted an ice seller on her way to the bookbinders' district. She hopped out of the tuk-tuk and walked. She knew that if she’d stayed with the tuk-tuk, the driver would drive in a large circle around to the bookbinders’ district and charge her twice as much when she could just cut through the ice sellers’ street.
The ice sellers' street, in the shade of large buildings, offered a shortcut through the weavers' district and into the bookbinders' district. It would also be much cooler walk than any other route. She took out a small coin to pay the guards of the ice sellers' street, and walked between their glistening chests to be hit by a refreshing wave of cool air on the other side. The ice sellers kept their one street, which was fairly large, cool year-round by means of the services of a permanent weather mage. Contracts like this, for small streets or buildings, was lucrative work for weather mages who had to contract out their services, she imagined.
Weather mages who did contract work, known as wardens, were well received anywhere they went, but in the city of Sandrin, the Imperial Court mandated that only the two weather mages sanctioned by the Emperor could affect the weather currents and temperatures in the city. If anyone else was caught casting a major weather spell without the express written permission of the palace, it was considered a crime against the Empire and they would be punished before the courts. The only other way for a weather warden to practice in the city—aside from a few limited permits owned by certain Districts or Guilds—was to teach, which left a dearth of plump positions for those weather-inclined mages to practice in.
Which is why so many leave the city and practice on estates, Ciardis thought. Peering down at the selection of flavors she saw her favorite – strawberry! She indicated to a flavored-ice seller that she wanted it over ice chips. This delicacy was her new favorite thing about the city. She thought wistfully of the snow cones she'd told Terris about. Perhaps if she could find a way to get them to grind the ice very finely...
Aside from the flavored ice seller, the thoroughfare was packed with household ice sellers and contract sellers. Since weather wardens couldn't individually practice by cooling homes, they licensed their services to contract sellers who sold the services out by bid and paid the wardens flat fees. The contract sellers were calling out to passersby’s about their services.
Two rooms – one price! said one man.
Fifteen shillings a month to keep your whole apartment cool! shouted another with a full beard.
A third voice came from behind her, Own an inn? We give you special price! Quality cold air – day and night for your patrons.
Soon she began tuning out the contract sellers as she continued to walk down the ice sellers’ street. They were sure to make a killing piping cool air into city homes, particularly in this heat.
She had no idea how the weather wardens cooled the air in this blazing hot sun but they did it and she was eternally grateful for the Guild's contract with the contract seller who made it possible. The nights here were torrid, even with the sea breeze off the ocean. It was almost as if a heat wave was cocooned above the city.
Making her way into the Bookbinders' District took a few minutes. She finished her flavored-ice along the way, licking it carefully to avoid getting drops on her dress. She made her way between the bookshops, heading for the one that looked the most decrepit. It was a three-story building that leaned slightly to the side, like an old man with a cane, and curtains fluttered out of the windows on each floor.
As she entered the building, a small bell chimed. It was nowhere near the door – in fact it floated five feet in the air in the center of the room spelled by magic. She looked around with a smile. It looked as if more dust had collected in the four weeks since she'd last come here.
She saw that the books weren’t as precariously piled as before. This time the stacks across multiple tables were no more than three or four books tall. Books took up space on floors and in the corners. The room was dark, dusty, and moldy—and she loved it. She weaved between the tables, heading for the back corner, where a small children's area was set up. The next primer was already there, bound in green cloth that designated it as Primer Two. Primer one, which she'd brought with her to trade, was bound in brown.
Gathering her new primer, she headed up to the second floor, where two of the journeyman bookbinders and the shop owner were hunched over loose pages in the filtered light. They all held thick needles in their hands as they hand-sewed the pages together. The books—or the fancy ones, anyway—wouldn't stay like that. She'd asked the owner about that on her last visit, confused as to why her primer had a proper spine and hard casing. It wasn't just sewn together with just a bit of thread. Joselin, the store owner, stood over a large desk to her right. He had told her that a formatter was brought in once a month for the fancy books. The rest were sold as-is to the outlying towns and the middle class, because you see only the richest of the city inhabitants could afford to buy even the plainest of Joselin’s bound books.
She brought the second primer to Joselin with a cheerful, "Hello!"
"Hello, yourself, young lady," he said as he shifted his spectacles from the top of his head to his nose. "Ah, I see you've finished the first primer. Already?" he asked curiously, a sparkle in his eye.
She nodded eagerly, dislodging her scarf from the top of her head in the process. As she shoved it back into place, he said, "Well, I've always enjoyed seeing a young person who reads. As promised, you can trade the first primer for the second at no cost, if..." He let the end of his sentence linger.
With a small smile, Ciardis said, "If I promise to come back and teach your daughter a few dance steps."
He gave her a big smile. "Yes, this weekend will be good."
Suddenly a young girl in a tan dress came rushing down the stairs. She rushed up to Ciardis with her blonde curls flying behind her. She screeched to a stop almost on Ciardis's toes, wobbling a bit before regaining her balance. Ciardis laughed at the five-year-old girl and said, "Hello, Mala."
"Hello, Ciardis," Mala said a bit shyly as she attempted a curtsy.
"Are you ready for your lessons this weekend?" Ciardis asked with a smile.
"Yes! Papa says we can dance in the wordies' room on the third floor!" Mala said eagerly.
Ciardis hid a grin, thinking how cute Mala was. "Wordie" was Mala's word for the wordsmiths who worked in her father's shop. They created the stories and ideas that became the books he bound and sold. "Isn't that right, Papa?" Mala said to Joselin as she turned to look up over the desk and confirm.
"That's right, my poppet," her father assured her.
"Then I look forward to it, milady," Ciardis said as she dipped a teasing curtsy to Mala. Mala grinned, delighted.
Ciardis bid good day to Mala, her father, and the two binders, then exited the shop to return to the Guild. She needed to get back and do Stephanie’s laundry for the week.
*****
The next morning, she woke to a small message glowing in her tobama ball, a small, crystalline orb that held notices, and, in this case, voice messages from mages. Yawning slightly, she raised her hand and tapped the glowing orb that sat by her bedside. Knowing she'd be able to hear the message even from across the room, she stumbled over to the armoire to grab a simple dress to slip on. Damias's voice came echoing out.
"Ciardis, wear pants and a tunic...and bring coffee."
He sounded irritated, she thought with a light grin. If there was anyone worse than her at getting up in the mornings, it had to be Damias. Taking off the dress she’d just put on, she rang the bell to the kitchens and asked for a tray of coffee to be brought to her room. As she struggled with tugging the tunic over her head, she realized that she had no idea where the meeting was supposed to be held. Then a knock sounded at her door. She shouted a quick, "Come in!" as she fussed with the ties on her bell sleeves.
Terris peeked her head in and then hurried over to her struggling friend. After they'd settled the ties, she said eagerly, "Our interviews will be held together!"
Ciardis looked at her with wide eyes. Terris giggled, knowing instantly what the look was for, and said, "I know, right? Vana and Serena in the same room? It's going to be something to see!"
Ciardis rolled her eyes. "I think that's something I could do without seeing. You were there when they had that out-and-out screaming match at dance rehearsal."
Terris shuddered. "And to think, recruits are warned against embarrassing their sponsors. Really, it should be the other way around. Hopefully this time will be less...public."
"As if," muttered Ciardis as she grabbed some of her books. "I think the whole city block heard that last fight."
At that moment, a second knock came at the door, with a chime to indicate it was the household staff. Terris went to open it with Ciardis close behind her, hoping it was the coffee. It was. Grabbing the carafe from one young maid, Ciardis told her thanks, as the girl curtsied in return. To Terris, Ciardis said, "I hope you know where the interviews are supposed to be held."
"Yep," replied her friend, as she took a fruit and breadbasket from a second maid's hands.
They hurried to an upper floor, and Ciardis grinned when she realized they were going into the tower. The top of the tower was a beautiful atrium with glass windows that opened on all sides to the fresh sea air. She was happy the meeting was being held there as she hated being crammed into windowless, hot rooms.
As they arrived, they saw that none of the others had arrived yet. No surprise there, thought Ciardis. Damias must have messaged me from his room.
She and Terris busied themselves unpacking the fruit, jams, and bread from the basket while they set the coffee down. A few minutes later, to their relief, Serena, Damias, and two other women arrived. When they were all settled in around the round table in the center of the room, Damias cleared his throat—after gulping half his mug of coffee, of course. "Ciardis, may I present to you Lady Vana, the sponsor of Terris, and Mary Windstorm, Terris's tutorials instructor."
Ciardis nodded, trying to swallow a small bit of bread stuck in her throat. Terris discreetly passed her a glass of water before she started choking, and Damias gracefully moved on. "Terris, I am Damias Firelancer, Ciardis's instructor. This is Lady Serena, her sponsor."
Terris nodded. Ciardis had finally gotten herself under control, though not without a withering glare from Serena. Terris, sitting beside her, kicked her foot under the table in solidarity.
"Well," drawled Vana, “It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Ciardis. The first Weathervane to be chosen in decades...how special."
Ciardis gave her a tight smile, catching the disdain in her tone.
Serena raised her glass. "To our girls!"
Damias, Vana, and Mary completed the toast with varying degrees of enthusiasm.
Half an hour later, Ciardis was miserable. The bickering had started the moment the toast had ended. Ciardis had hoped the interview process would begin immediately but the sponsors and tutorials instructors seemed to be leisurely munching on breakfast and making small talk in advance. Pleasantries had gone out the door when Serena had commented—or sniped, rather on the topic of Vana's poorly dyed hair.
Once, Mary had had to physically hold Vana back from slapping Serena over some insult, and Damias looked like he had a headache from the constant abuse flying around. Apparently deciding that he'd had enough, Damias rapped a small fork against his glass of water, signifying an end to the petty snipes between the two warring parties. "Let's just get on with it," he growled.
"Fine." Clearing her throat, Lady Vana said, "As we all know, Chimaeran girls are famed for their ability to communicate with any other species."
"Just the girls?" whispered Ciardis to Terris. It wasn't as if either of the two sponsors was paying them any attention, anyway.
"The boys can change into any animal form, magical or mundane," Terris quickly whispered back.
"Vana," said Damias in a warning tone. He had noted that she’d gone back to a glaring contest with Serena.
"Which is why," Vana hastily continued as she turned from glaring at her nemesis, "We're here not to discuss your promotion to trainee level but the preparations for your patron hunt and the future use of your magical talents during the Hunt."
"Yes," said Serena, seemingly determined that Vana would not have the floor for long. "As I told Ciardis when she arrived, her extraordinary talents mean an automatic conferral of trainee status."
Damias looked at Mary and tilted his head to her indicating that she had the floor.
Mary smiled, looking at Terris and Ciardis. "Since both of you have already been accepted as trainees, now we'd like to discuss your Patron candidates."
Both Ciardis and Terris sat up straight at that. This was definitely new.