Page 55 of Elvenbred

She smelled Aelford’s astringent soap, and felt her presence as the supervisor stood beside her table. “Yesterday, you went to sleep at your table. Someone took your midday ration. I told you that’d happen.”

“Yes,” Triana replied. “I was just so tired. I just want to close my eyes for a few minutes.”

“Sit up,” Aelford said. “I don’t like talking to the back of a gel’s head.”

Triana did as she was told. Aelford looked at her gravely. “The moment yer done with dinner, asleep it is. The last to rise, and asleep in here.” She looked at Triana’s box. “How many today?”

“Seven, so far,” Triana answered. “Twelve yesterday.”

“Better,” Aelford said.

“But not good enough,” Triana replied. “Not twenty-five.”

“No,” Aelford confirmed, “not good enough. Day after next, the tally starts to count.” She paused, thinking. “You did as I bid … no flavorings, no color, just focus on the food?”

Triana nodded. “It helped.”

Aelford gave her a puzzled expression. “I don’t understand why this is so hard … you made the yellow gem shine steadily, not just flickering, but a steady on yellow glow?”

“Yes.” Triana answered.

Aelford shrugged. “Then, I don’t understand. It’s obvious you are throwing everything you have at it, not holding back. You look terrible. You’re losing weight, and when you aren’t sitting here Making, you’re asleep.” She thought for a moment. “It has to be how you are using the ambient magic. A fault in technique, perhaps.” She dragged a chair from the next table and sat. “Describe how you make a ration brick. Everyone does it a bit differently. What is your way?”

Triana took a deep breath. This conversation. Again. Third time? Maybe fourth. She worked to keep her frustration at bay, and her voice neutral. Antagonizing Aelford would only make her life even more miserable. “As I said, I look at the sludge in the wooden box. I put it in the form and smooth it. Then, I imagine what it will look like as a ration brick. How it feels. How it tastes. How crumbly it is. It’s like making an illusion. I layer on what I want it to look like, what I want it to be, over what it is, and then I ….” She paused, uncertain of how to explain it. “Then, I just build it up layer by layer, refining as I go. I force it to change into what I want it to be. It’s similar to how I make an illusion, but more substantial.”

Aelford nodded. She thought for a moment. “Maybe you need the spell, the incantations, to shape how you use the ambient magic, so it doesn’t leak away.” Triana held her tongue. Third time across this ground. She could see that Aelford didn’t believe her own idea.

Still, it gave her an opening. “Aelford, everyone here talks about ambient magic. Seeing it, using it, but I don’t understand. We never did that where I came from. Truly.” She wanted to add, Magic isn’t free-floating in the air! It’s inside you! But she didn’t. That would be “talking back.” She’d already learned that was a very bad idea.

Aelford gave her an odd look, doubtful and wary, then nodded. “All right, I’ll go along. The very basics. What we teach kids.” She picked up the small, poorly made ceramic cup that Triana kept ”tea” in. “Everyone has some magical potential. When children start to turn into adults, that’s tested, the same way you were tested. Right?”

Triana nodded.

Aelford continued. “Some elves have so little potential that they can barely flicker the red gem. They can’t even do the simplest tasks, such as mending tears or lighting candles. They have magic, as all elves do, but it’s so insignificant that it doesn’t really count.” She held up the teacup. “Let’s say this represents the magical potential for a red, first gem. Strong enough to count, but too weak to do much. The teacup represents their magical potential, their latent ability, the magic they can personally do.” She tipped the teacup so that Triana could see, and swirled her finger around the empty inside. “The area inside, the tea, is the quantity of ambient magic you can work with. Your personal magic, makes the boundaries … the space inside the … that’s what you fill with ambient magic.” She tapped the teacup. “Your personal potential.” She swirled her finger inside. “The total quantity you can manage.”

Triana focused on Aelford’s words, trying to understand the strange ideas.

“I don’t understand ‘ambient magic,’” Triana said. “We didn’t have that where I came from.”

Aelford looked skeptical. “It’s part of who we are, so that … surprises me.” Aelford had walked up to the line of calling her a liar, and there was nothing she could do about it. Triana looked down to hide her resentment. She wondered how much Aelford had been told. There hadn’t been any particular threats about keeping silent, but Triana hadn’t advertised her history. She’d been too tired to do much talking, and the frowns and grumbles as she’d failed to fill her quota had not encouraged conversation. It would get worse once her training period expired, and the others would have to make up for her shortfalls. She felt a twinge of fear.

Aelford considered a moment, then shrugged. “Hain’t my never mind,” she said. “Ambient magic is all around. Let your eyes go unfocused for a moment, and in the right light you can sometimes see it … a soft golden glow in the air, usually in the corners of the eyes. You use your own personal magic to draw it in, shape it, and release it in a controlled way. That’s how we use the Contagion spell … a standard way that we all learn to Make one thing into another once we’re identified. Each gel here does it her own way, but most follow the Principle of Contagion.” She looked at Triana. “’Cepting you.” She paused, thinking. “I wonder. Would you excuse me?” She stood. Triana was about to speak, then realized Aelford’s question was only a politeness, a social convention. She couldn’t care less whether Triana excused her.

Triana waited several minutes. A few of the ration Makers trickled in, their midday meal done. She then stood to get her lunch.

Aelford returned.

“Sit,” the supervisor said bluntly.

Triana sat.

Aelford set a small disk on the table, a ceramic thing that Triana at first mistook for a drink coaster. “What is that?” she asked.

“A magic sensor,” Aelford replied. “They are very sensitive to movements in the ambient magic. Very sensitive. Anytime you cast even the smallest spell, the moment you start to draw in the ambient, it will warn the person attuned to the device. I’ll show you.” She filled the teacup with cold tea. “Now, to warm it.” She made several hand-passes over the top of the cup, while murmuring an incantation. The disk gave off a soft amber glow.

“It works,” said Aelford. “Now, it’s your turn. Start on the brick. Put the paste in and start doing what you do when you Make a ration.”

Triana felt quite self-conscious but did as she was told. She smeared the paste in the form, leveling it as she had been taught, then set the form directly in front of her. She stared at it for a few moments to fix it in her memory, then closed her eyes. She imagined how she wanted it to be, then started the slow, painful process of changing it from what it was into what she wanted it to be. She built up the idea of the brick as an illusion, and then imposed form on it, slowly changing the paste to conform to the idea in her head. She finished after a very long time, and slumped in her chair, bone weary. The beginnings of a headache built behind her eyes.