“For today’s lab session we will be crafting a bi-magical wand.” The instructor of Basic Magic Constructs, a slim elven man with a dry wit and a perfectionist streak, set a crate of sticks atop one of the lab benches. “Specifically, an ever-burning torch.”
Assignments in every class had been growing in complexity as the weeks passed. Outside, trees grew bare, temperatures brisk, and the occasional storm livened up days and nights with howling wind, chilling rain, and displays of colorful magical lightning.
We’d just been through an hour of lecture, which I managed to survive without shooting too many glances at Sephimara, who sat at the same lab bench as I, two seats down. I’d diligently paid attention, my class notes were solid, yet somehow, as my gaze shifted from the instructor to students asking or answering questions, my eyes lingered on hers. A brief tilt of her head as our eyes met. A fleeting smile over her plush lips. The way she arranged that short amber hair to one side of her ears or the other. Something was going on between us.Some connection beyond…
I had to be reading too much into it.
As the class lined up to collect sticks, gems, and tools, she let Brenda, who had sat between us, go ahead of her.
So we would be together?
We are literally waiting in line to pick up lab supplies, there is nothing more to it, Theo!
“Do any of these catch your eye in particular, Mister Thistlewood?” she asked, as our turn came.
That’s right. We’d worked together several weekends now, but always with finished boards, not natural sticks.
“I’m afraid I’m not especially familiar with this species of wood.” I turned one of the sticks over in my hand. Long as my forearm and thick as a broomstick, it had a bit of a twist to it. I set it back. “But the usual rules probably apply. Watch for forks and knots, they disrupt the flow.”
She reached for one of the straighter sticks, piercing green eyes darting my way.
I nodded.
She picked it up.
That flicker of a smile crossed her lips. She turned away.
I collected my own stick, a shorter one with a bit of an irregular fork, like a lowercase Y.
Should be a moderate challenge, but not so much that I’d make a mistake and be marked down.
Picking up gems and tools, I returned to my seat.
I liked the fact that our instructor had referred to the device by the colloquial name of ever-burning torch: a technically inaccurate name used by adventurers. That terribly practically minded group of magic users that so many academics seemed to disdain.
I traced the grain patterns of the stick with my fingertips. An ever-burning torch used a power crystal and two gems to create a couple different light effects, usually an ice torch and a fire torch. The trick to crafting one was to position all three so that the natural flow of magic energy would miss both gems, while the user could subtly alter the flow to intersect one or the other. My irregularly shaped stick would require a bit of extra whittling, not to mention more care in gem positioning, but two hours should be plenty of time.
I glanced at Sephimara, who had the correct tool out.
Good. She should be able to do this.
We shot each other glances as we worked. She occasionally held up tools while I nodded or shook my head. It would have made more sense to sit next to each other, but I would have had to ask Brenda to move. We were all supposed to complete the project on our own, though we weren’t prohibited from asking each other questions. Still, there was a certain charm in being furtive about it.
As she held her nearly complete wand above her head, the tip burst into crimson flame.
That’s my girl.
I couldn’t contain my smile as our eyes met. She batted her eyelids, returning the smile.
Best lab session ever.
As we filtered out of the class, I said my goodbyes to Brenda and Dion. I’d probably see them in the cafeteria or the lounge later on.
Sephimara, nearly the last to leave, spoke, “Tomorrow, Mister Thistlewood?”
“I’ll be there,” I said.
She nodded, a thin smile on her lips, and departed.
