Halithe took a deep breath and took it in one hand.
“Okay,” Roth said.“The first thing is your stance,” he said, moving to stand beside her.“Dominant foot toward your opponent, the other at an angle, knees bent, butt tucked in.Remember,” he added.“Bent knees are safe knees.”
To Halithe’s joy,the days and weeks flowed past with ease.She was proud of her work, all of it.The ease of the chores, being part of a…family, it made her…happy.
Even history lessons.
One day, when the rain and wind kept them all indoors, Orval had Rosalind come to the class.She arrived carrying a thick roll of fabric in both hands.
“This is the oldest tapestry we know of,” she said as she rolled it out on the large table where the maps were usually displayed.“It wasn’t hung in the Palace, due to its age, and well, the subject matter.”
The picture was of a golden airion fighting a black wyvern, each circling the other, going at with tooth and claw.It was clear the wyvern was getting the worst of it, with many wounds oozing bright red blood.
“The colors are so bright,” Dayva breathed as she leaned over it.
“It’s simply woven,” Rosalind said, “but the knotwork on the edges is intricate and rare.I’m fairly sure it’s horse hair.”She gestured toward the bottom.“See here?”
Halithe studied the images of tents and horses grazing in long grasses.“There are no buildings,” she said.
“Which is part of what leads us to think that this tapestry is very old and might pre-date the Golden Age,” Orval said.He leaned against the table; his leg was probably aching and his limp was definitely more pronounced on cold, wet days like this.“It raises so many questions,” he said as he gently touched the airion’s bright gold head.
Aramal’s voice floated up through the window.“Lads, if you be done, I could use some help in the forge.”
At Orval’s nod, the boys took off.
“How could something that old last so long?”Dayva asked.
“Because someone cared to preserve it,” Rosalind said softly.
That didn’t seem likely.Halithe frowned, opened her mage sense, then bit her lip.
She waited until Dayva left before catching Rosalind’s eye.“I think Papa should see this.”
“Why?Rosalind asked.
“Because it’s glowing.”
“Well, well, well,”Ritathan stared at the tapestry, arms folded over his chest.He was wearing his grey tunic and brown trous, having put his silk robes away.But he didn’t look any less intimidating.
They’d waited until after the evening meal, when Dayva and the rest had left for their homes.
Rosalind was staring at him anxiously.“It never occurred to me that it might be magical.Although that might explain the vivid colors.”
“Hmm,” Ritathan said.“It could be a form of preservation.”He brushed his fingers over the woven threads.“But that seems unlikely that it would be just that.”He shrugged.“It’s a lot of effort to just protect a cloth, no matter how lovely.More interesting is that it’s still potent.”
“What does that mean?”Halithe asked.
“Our skills are used to shape the world,” he said.“But once shaped, the power leaves just traces of its use and those fade rather quickly.”
“A candle snuffed out wouldn’t glow?”Halithe asked.
“How would you know?”Her Papa raised an eyebrow.“Have you looked?”
Halithe blushed.
“But yes, exactly.”Ritathan turned back to Rosalind.“This is not a secret I can pry open.Nor do I think it was meant for us.”He shrugged.“Roll it back up and keep it safe.”
“It’s not dangerous?”Rosalind asked.
