Halithe snuffed the one before her with her fingers and gave her teacher a grin.
He raised an eyebrow.
She sighed, focused on the wick and re-lit it with her power, then stared, trying to figure out how to extinguish it.After a bit, she frowned.“This is hard,” she muttered.
“Really?”Ritathan asked.He picked up a bean and snapped the end off to remove the string.“And here I thought everyone could do it.”
She sighed and re-focused.
Even history was interesting, when Hisself talked.As planting season came on, the other kids tended to only stay long enough for the reading and writing.But she and Yfin and Cirda were a constant.
Amari had managed to convince the Lord High Baron to move his office up to the rooms that were clearly intended for that purpose, but only by placing the nursery next to it.She’d also frowned at the idea of sitting and listening with idle hands.
So every afternoon, they climb the stairs to what Orval called his library, even though there were no books, bringing hand work with them.Dayva would slip out of the nursery while the babes napped, and they’d work and listen to the Lord tell them stories.
Something about the Lord High Baron came alive when he talked about the past.Halithe got the impression that he knew all these people, from so long ago.But he didn’t just talk about their glories.He also talked about their failings, their mistakes, how they fixed them, how they didn’t.
What was confusing was when he talked about who had written the story, or who had translated it from the ancient tongues, and what their motives were.What their flaws were.
She’d never thought about that, and when she’d protested, the Lord had fixed her with those mild blue eyes.
“Why would they be any different from you and I?Why should a few hundred years make them perfect?”
The best part, the absolute best part, was that Lord High Baron Orval seemed to know the exact moment when their attention started to waver.Just before she shifted in her seat, just before Yfin started to jiggle his knee, he’d announce the lesson done for the day.They’d clatter down the stairs, intent on fishing or going into the woods to gather whatever was in season.Nuts, fruit, the rare bee colony.
Sometimes, Roth would propose a game of “stalk the prey.”They’d be given a small area in which to hide while he tried to find them.Dayva was the best at that, when she could play, being so small.
One morning, the day dawned bright and clear and glorious.The Lord High Baron had meetings with Jerrold and the Elders of some of the surrounding villages.So after chores and their morning lessons with Roth, they would be free for the afternoon, and there were berries and nuts to gather and mushrooms to hunt.Halithe hurried through her chores and lessons, then ran up the stairs to the office where Ritathan was working.
“Can I go gathering with the others?”she asked breathlessly.
“Of course,” Ritathan nodded.“Try not to bring back any mushrooms.”He shuddered.
Halithe laughed, since she knew he hated what he called “fungus.”She darted over to the nursery door, which was standing ajar.“Dayva?”she asked quietly, sticking her head in.“Are you free?Can you come with us?”
Dayva was seated in a sunny spot by the window, her lap covered in fabric and thread.She shook her head regretfully.“Herself and Rosalind took the babes, but I want to practice this new knotted stitch,” she said.“It’s really pretty, but it’s really hard, but I want to get it right.”
She grinned at Halithe.“But I love mushrooms,” she added.
Halithe laughed, closed the door and skipped for the stairs, running down in delight until her steps slowed and she stood for a moment, thinking.
She walked back up, slowly, reluctantly, until she entered the office.
Ritathan looked up, eyebrows raised.
“Was this what you meant,” Halithe asked, not really wanting to know the answer.“When you said that magic requires sacrifice?”
“Yes,” Ritathan said simply.“Yes, it was.”
Halithe stood there, looking over his shoulder at the sun on the trees, disappointment and resentment washing over her.She really didn’t want to sit and stare at a candle.She wanted to run and laugh, and be with her friends and—
“It’s odd,” Ritathan said in his “papa” voice.“Everyone thinks of sacrifice as something grand and noble.But in truth, it is the daily decisions that make the difference.”
“Aren’t you going to scold me for not practicing?”she asked, her mouth dry, almost hoping he would make the decision for her.
“No,” her Papa said.“Remember, this is your choice and I won’t condemn you for making your own choices.The decisions are yours, as are the consequences.”His eyes were kind, but his gaze drilled into her.
Halithe slumped against the door jam.She knew what she wanted.
