Part Seven: "Another Wizard!" "Or Fairy!"

There was no doubt about it.
Brey had ticked Rhys off.
Remind me never to tick off an armed wanderer if the opportunity arises.
Not that Rhys threatened to use Beriadan on Brey. On the contrary; he didn’t really punish her at all, unless you consider the silent treatment a punishment.
A week ago, Brey wouldn’t have noticed if he was giving her the silent treatment or not, because he seemed by nature to be so quiet. But Brey noticed that Rhys was much less close-mouthed among his companions. In fact, he talked and laughed a lot. Except to Brey. And of course, you can’t teach magic to a person you’re not talking to.
Brey thought at first it would blow over- after all, she hadn’t blown up the piece of wood on purpose- but it didn’t. Being easily angered and feeling snubbed, she ignored him back- which rarely works for reconciliation. They ignored each other so determinedly that Kayelli had time to recover from her cold and show Brey every inch of the camp.
Brey didn’t really realize that she hadn’t been properly apologetic about the little incident, nor had she felt sorry yet. She still viewed it as careless, slightly dangerous fun and didn’t realize the seriousness of what she had done. But eventually curiosity- especially about magic- overcame anger, and figuring an apology was the only way he would return to her instruction, she apologized.
"I’m… sorry," she said lamely. "I didn’t realize the forest is so volatile."
"It’s not just that," said Rhys. "By attempting to Enchant, you crossed boundaries set in place by Someone wiser. You disrespected laws and rules laid down not only for our and others’ protection, but for the containing of evil magic. And by doing so, you put us in peril." He was stroking Beriadan’s hilt. "Yes, Magicians carry enchanted tools, but they do not Enchant. It’s complicated. All you need to understand for now is that if you dig into Wild, Dark Magic, it and the desires that come with it will consume you. Many Magicians have been caught by that snare."
Brey stumbled back as though he was slapped her. In a way, he had. "I’m sorry. I didn’t know," she whispered. "I had the impression I would be learning to Enchant."
"I’m sorry if I implied such a thing. But Magicians cannot delve there. Everyone has a task. Shaping, guiding, aiding- those are ours. Anything put beyond our reach is put there for a reason. Understand?"
Brey nodded emphatically. "I really am sorry. Really."
"I know," Rhys sighed. "But one thing still worries me. Even if Magicians could Enchant, you still disobeyed me. If I’m going to teach you, you’re going to have to learn to listen. Will you promise me you won’t practice any more magic until we’ve studied it together? Unless I’ve approved it?"
For a moment Brey balked at the thought of such a promise. Then she knew what she would be giving up was to protect her. "I promise," she vowed.
Rhys let out a relieved-sounding sigh. "Good," he said. "But let’s not start again just yet. Go talk to Kayelli or help her around the camp or something."
Brey got the idea that his temper still needed to cool, so she withdrew slowly.

The next day Brey caught Rhys clasping his old grey cloak at his throat, his long sword Beriadan swinging at his side.
"Rhys? Are you going somewhere?" she asked, surprised.
"Yes." He laid a hand on her shoulder. "I’m sorry, but I’m afraid we won’t be picking up on your lessons anytime soon. Truth is," he said, face solemn but unmatching eyes sparkling, "I’ve heard about another Magician in danger. To the North."
Brey’s face lit up. "That’s amazing! Fairy or Wizard?"
Rhys shrugged. "I have to find that out."
"How old?"
Rhys thought about it for a moment. "Well, I’d say around… sixteen. Maybe older. Hard to say before I see him."
"Or her," said Brey. "Well, give me a minute, and I’ll be ready."
"Oh, you’re not going," said Rhys with a dry hint of humor. He seemed to have expected this reaction.
"Are you kidding me?" cried Brey. "This is high adventure! I’m not about it miss it!"
"If you go, it’s not just the adventure that’ll be high. The danger will be, too, and it’s already great enough. Remember the danger we had coming here and escaping the King’s Men with only two? I can’t have three and risk both your life and his," he explained patiently.
"Hers," muttered Brey. "It could be a her!" With that, she spun on her heel and ran off in a huff.

Of course, she was able to view it rationally later. After contemplating his reasons, she reluctantly agreed. So she was sufficiently resigned to her disappointment to stand with the others and watch Rhys leave. As Brey had expected, he left Garrett in charge.
She didn’t worry about her Wizard friend. She knew he was highly capable of defending himself. She did, however, feel some slight anxiety for the other Magician. If he or she was sixteen at the least, chances were good that he/she knew about his/her magic and how to use it, but that wasn’t a given.
A month or so passed, with Rhys still gone. Brey still had no reason to worry about him. According to Kayelli, Rhys was often gone at least this long, and this time he was going north, which would take longer that usual.
However, things at the camp were running less than smoothly in their leader’s absence. Garrett, so rarely ruffled, had been aroused to wrath by some kind of friction Ryken had caused. Brey didn’t know the particulars. It seemed to her that Rhys should just kick Ryken out if he were such a troublemaker, and she said so to Kayelli.
"Well," said Kayelli slowly, "he can usually be handled. And remember that everyone here is in hiding, even though only you and Rhys are magicians. Where could Ryken go? He and Rhys are also friends. I doubt Rhys would turn him out, though he wouldn’t stop him from leaving if that’s what Ryken chose."
"I don’t see why they’re such friends," said Brey.
"Ryken isn’t a bad man," said Kayelli. "He’s just a little…"
"Proud?" suggested Brey.
"Yes, I suppose his flaws are mostly wrapped up in pride," said Kayelli. "But he’s reliable, and courageous. If we were attacked, sure as you live he’d either be at the front of the fight or at the women and children’s defense." She cocked her head for a moment. "You know, Brey, besides being a man, being much older, and not being a magician… Ryken is a lot like you."
"What?!" cried Brey. "Like me?! How? Kay, I can’t believe you."
"Well, you’re both very fiery on the inside," explained Kayelli. "You have similar flaws- temper being one, but pride is another."
Brey looked down. She did have a tendency to be proud.
Kayelli continued, "And you’re both very protective of things you care about. That’s the reason Ryken didn’t want you here, you know."
"Pfft," said Brey. "Well… I…"
"Need a good comeback?" finished Kayelli.
"Yes. That."
The two burst into laughter.

The next month, Rhys still wasn’t back. Then Brey began to worry. Not because she thought Rhys was in danger, though, knowing him, he might have been. Mostly because she feared if he stayed away any longer, there would be a mutiny. Brey heard Garrett and Cwyn talking one night outside her and Kayelli’s room…
"It’s even worse than the last time!" (This was Garrett. The frustration in his voice was startling.) "Why does Ryken always make trouble? We’re doing fine, and Rhys will be back soon!"
Cwyn was calm in Garrett’s place. "That’s what you need to tell him, and yourself. Rhys will be back soon, and Rhys can always straighten these things out. Ryken isn’t unmanageable, you know."
"Then how is he to be managed?" cried Garrett. Brey could hear him pacing around the room.
"Just listen to him," said Cwyn gently. "Maybe he’ll have some good points, or it might be just nonsense, but either way it can’t do much harm if you keep your temper. See if you can appease him, even temporarily."
The next morning, too troubled to be much for conversation, Brey wandered out to the shack to think. But her thinking was interrupted when Henry and Georgiana, the two talking ferrets, ending up being there.
Brey had seen Henry and Georgiana around camp in the time since she had known them, but she had only had one conversation with them- a conversation about the importance of talking ferrets in the world. (Brey was convinced they served no purpose other than annoyance; Henry and Georgiana argued that talking ferrets, though cousins of the weaselly non-talking ferrets, were truly noble at heart. The debate had not reached a conclusion.)
Georgiana spoke first. "Hello, Brey," she said, climbing onto her shoulder and curling up on it. "Feeling down, I see."
Brey said nothing. She was not in the mood.
Henry stayed at her feet. He avoided any physical contact with humans. He looked up. "Looks like rain."
Georgiana looked up, too. "How would you be able to tell? All you can see up there is the tree canopy."
"Ferrets just know," he said.
"I’m a ferret, too!" she cried.
"But you’re touching a human!" he said disapprovingly. "She’s probably filthy."
Brey mumbled, "Where I come from it’s rodents that are considered filthy."
Neither ferret heard her. They were too busy quarreling.
Then, with all the perfect serenity of someone who doesn’t care, Georgiana and Henry said in unison, "Rhys is back."
Brey jumped up, knocking poor Georgiana off her shoulder. "Really?"
"Ow," said Georgiana.
"Sorry." Brey picked her up, setting her on all fours again. "But is he really back?"
"Of course he is," said Georgiana. "He’s got a distinct scent." She wrinkled her nose. "A distinct odor, rather. And not faraway, either."
Henry interrupted, "I would have smelled him sooner, but he’s got someone new with him."
"The Magician!" breathed Brey. "I’ve got to go- see you guys later!" She dashed off.
"Other way, dear," cried Georgiana.
Brey spun around and headed off.

She encountered Rhys and the new magician a little ways from the camp. The magician was a girl. She looked older than Brey, with waist-length downy red hair and blue eyes. She was of average height, and her features were very fine. She was lovely.
Rhys smiled when he saw Brey approach. "Brey, this is Chliara," he said, motioning to the Fairy. (Pronounced Klee ARR uh.)
"Hi!" said Brey.
Chliara just smiled, a bit shyly.
"I was right. I told you it would be a she," Brey said to Rhys, grinning. The thought consoled her a bit about missing the adventure. "And thank goodness you’re back." Then, upon closer inspection of Rhys’s face- "You have a new scar."
Rhys laughed, just a little. "That’s not the half of it," he said, casting back his cloak to reveal his left arm.
Brey raised her eyebrows. "A bandage?" It was makeshift, looking as though it had been torn off the hem of Chliara’s dress.
"Go on," said Rhys. "You can take it off."
Brey unwound it gingerly, unsure of what she’d meet underneath. Then the cloth started welding together with the layers beneath. When Brey wrenched them off, she quickly sprang back in revulsion.
His forearm was covered in burns that oozed a clear, puss-like liquid. It smelled like rotting flesh.
Rhys clicked his tongue. "Not pretty, is it?"
"Sorry again," said Chliara, putting her hands over her eyes. She spoke with an accent.
"She threw a lantern at me," explained Rhys to Brey. "Mistook me for a particularly rascally King’s Man."
"Does that always happen to you?" asked Brey, carefully avoiding the burned arm with her eyes.
"It’s the cloak, isn’t it?" said Rhys. "Well, the lantern broke and set my arm on fire. And by the time it was out and Chliara here knew the truth, we didn’t have time to get any sort of balm or salve for it."
"That sounds like something you’d forget to do," said Brey. "Does it hurt?"
"It did," admitted Rhys. "But now I can hardly feel it. At all."
"Should I get Cwyn? She might have something."
"We’ll all go. Will you take care of introducing Chliara, Brey?"
"Oh, sure." Brey eyed Chliara curiously, and as they walked, the two fell behind to talk. "So, you’re from the north?"
"Aye," said Chliara, with that odd accent.
"Will you miss it?"
Chliara nodded, her eyes misting. "Aye," she said softly. "But ‘twasnae safe there. Ye wouldnae understand."
"Oh, I understand," said Brey. "I’m a Fairy, too."
"Ye are?" Chliara looked up, smiling suddenly. "Rhys didnae tell me there were more Magicians here!"
"Rhys doesn’t tell anyone much of anything," said Brey matter-of-factly. "We’re working on it." She looked Chliara over again. "How old are you?"
"Eight and ten."
Brey sighed. "Once again, older than I am. Even Kayelli is older than I am." She explained quickly, "Kayelli is the only other teenage girl at camp… so I suppose it’s a good thing that we hit it off pretty quickly."
Chliara smiled uncertainly, brushing her feathery red hair out of her eyes.
She’s uncomfortable, thought Brey. She doesn’t know what to say. She smiled, hoping she looked reassuring. "I’m so glad you’re here. I’m kind of new, too. I think we’ll be friends, whether you’re older than me or not."
Chliara smiled again, this time more brightly. "Aye, that we will be."

Cwyn unflinchingly applied an ointment to Rhys’s injury and wound it up in a clean bandage. "You’re going to have to come back later in the week to get it checked up," she said, her face inexpressive- possibly in attempt not to throw up. "It isn’t infected now, but it still could be later."
Rhys grimaced. "At least I got Chliara here safely," he said. "It’s worth it."
Cwyn suddenly smiled. Rhys caught that slight facial movement.
"What?"
"She’s very pretty, isn’t she," said Cwyn. Though worded like a question, it was really a statement.
Rhys shrugged, as though he hadn’t noticed. "What’s your point?"
"You’re near the same age, aren’t you," said Cwyn. Again a statement, not a question.
Rhys rolled his eyes, understanding. "Oh. Your crazy woman-gossip is starting a bit early this time around, don’t you think," he said, imitating her. "Really, you’re as bad as someone Kayelli’s age."
Cwyn smiled knowingly. "Just wait till you’re married. You’ll understand the woman-gossip then."
Rhys snorted, a snort that seemed to imply both that he would never understand and that he would never marry.

In his tree-house later, He cupped a glass sphere in his one free hand, running his callused fingers over it, remembering the words of his mentor- "Everything is Shapeable, but only glass molds like water." And now I’m a mentor, he thought.
It was good to be back, to not be always running.
He felt a familiar determination as he shaped the glass, skillful though with restricted use of his left arm. Remembering Brey’s near disaster, he kept his eyes open, picturing the product at the back of his imagination. A stretch, and elongated twist, slender veins on a trumpet shape. A stem, leaves, and a flower blossomed form the rosily glowing glass. (He liked to light up his work.)
He wondered if headstrong Brey would ever put her perfectionism aside, listen to him, and find the same joy in her work that he found in his. She isn’t bad at all, if she would only obey instruction, he thought. It’ll probably never be her strong point. He smiled suddenly. Was I ever like that?’
Finally the delicate glass lily was completed. Rhys was not very proud as people go, but he did admit to himself that it was very good work, especially with his injury, though it could in no way compare to a real flower.
But now a problem had presented itself, as problems so often do. He had done it sheerly out of pleasure, and had no use for the flower. He remembered Cwyn’s jests. Wouldn’t she be pleased if I were to give it to Chliara? He laughed at the thought. Chliara herself, on the other hand…
He got up and set the flower down on a windowsill. As his touch left it, its light went out. I’ll save it for a special occasion, he thought. And despite how often he protested to his men and their wives alike, he though to himself with a secret smile, Maybe. Maybe one day.