Chapter Sixteen
Ten bells. They were ideal for her purpose, and Rennyn adapted her new Sigillic around them, coaching Lieutenant Meniar into casting the result in the house’s receiving room. Then she tapped a fragment of a tune out on the set of bells suspended over the Sigillic, and nodded when the sound was repeated, and the casting took hold and settled to waiting.
"I can see it’s a divination," Fallon said, watching eagerly. "But I don’t understand what you’re divining."
"A sound only I can hear," Rennyn said. "Which, in this company, is unlikely enough to suggest that what I am hearing is not sound at all, but some expression of a casting. The difficulty has been producing a divination that did not react to every casting in the area, but only to the one I wanted. It took some time to think of a method for that."
Rennyn could see that something about this excited Fallon inordinately. And then, as happened too often to be coincidence, his fascination cut off and he looked sick, then retired behind her other students to stare at the ground. Rennyn exchanged a glance with Lieutenant Meniar, who nodded briefly. They had been discussing the question of Fallon’s health, and the Sentene mage had his own subtle divination operating.
None of her students were at their best at that moment. Of course, Rennyn had raised the problem of over-reliance on set forms with Fallon and Sukata yesterday, and both had been predictably crestfallen. Sukata had then compounded her unhappiness by failing in her entirely self-appointed duty to keep her fellow students safe. Not that she showed much if any of this on her face, but her stance was not as upright as usual.
And Kendall…Kendall was all prickles at the best of times. Since the yesterday’s unexpectedly dramatic trip to the market, she become something different: less inclined to talk, more a silent, spiky ball radiating leave me alone. Not, apparently, overly frightened by her near escape, nor simply embarrassed, but shut away and withdrawn. The only thing that roused her was opportunities to glare at Dezart Samarin.
"Enough for the morning, I think," Rennyn said, rising from the couch conveniently situated beside the casting. "Today’s assignment for you three is to write a Sigillic to stop a holed rowboat from sinking."
"Should I set someone to watch this?" Lieutenant Meniar asked, offering her his arm.
"No need. At this stage all I want from it is confirmation that there really is a casting. I haven’t structured a way to identify its purpose. I really can manage these stairs on my own, you know."
"You’d not deny me the opportunity to admire your progress," he said, cheerfully. "Your ribs aren’t bothering you at all?"
"Not a twinge," she said, more than pleased by the fact. "Nor has the headache reoccurred, even when I cast." But the climb up the single flight of stairs still brought on a faint dizziness. "I think I’m as recovered as I’m going to get," she added as Illidian, coming down from above, met them on the landing. "Not technically ill, but no physical reserve."
He clasped her hand at this, but only said: "The reinforcement work has finished."
"The nights will be dull without the prospect of attic invasions," Rennyn murmured, though she had, of course, slept through the first one entirely. "What did your divination tell you, Lieutenant Meniar?"
The Sentene mage waited to speak until they were all three inside her bedroom and he had closed the door behind them. Then, uncharacteristically grave, he said: "Fallon’s not ill. He’s enchanted."
Considerably startled, Rennyn said: "I haven’t detected any pattern of intent."
"Nor did I. My divination wasn’t set for it anyway. But the boy’s throat closed, completely. Some kind of membrane formed across it, I think. I’ll refine the divination to get a better idea of the physical impact."
Rennyn glanced at Illidian, and saw that the vertical lines that bracketed his mouth had deepened.
"A casting to prevent speech?" he suggested.
"Possibly," Meniar replied. "It’s something that released, at any rate, once he’d stepped back. But that’s no simple block to keep him quiet: a few of minutes of that and he’d suffocate."
"Well, there’s an explanation for why he occasionally appears outright terrified," Rennyn said. "Some mischief of his uncle’s, do you think?"
Illidian shook his head. "He claims to have departed without his uncle’s knowledge. Although this casting may pre-date his attempts to become your student."
"And what were we discussing that triggered it today? Divinations? Music? Advanced Sigillics?" Rennyn thought back over all she’d observed of Fallon in the previous weeks. "He’s always particularly intense about Thought casting. I hate to imagine that someone’s set him to learn my so-called secrets, under threat of death. But my lessons certainly don’t all have that impact on him."
"I’ll divine further, and then prepare a Sigillic that will unblock his throat if that becomes necessary." Lieutenant Meniar grimaced. "And hope that the casting does not include contingencies beyond that. I will leave unpicking the intent to you, Your Grace."
He smiled at her, nodded at Illidian, and left.
"Lady Weston was positively superstitious about your instincts," Rennyn said, as Illidian sat beside her on the bed. "Do you think your interest in Fallon was sparked because he poses a threat?"
He gave the idea due consideration. "Unlikely," he said at last. "More likely that I felt that he was threatened."
This last had an ironic note. Illidian claimed that it was pointless for him to dislike the in-built protective instinct of his people, but he was also very aware that part of his own personality was defined by the terms of Solace’s casting.
"When I decided to bring students along, I didn’t think they’d come with mysteries," she said, slipping off her shoes. "I’ll begin looking for a way to define the enchantment without his notice." She paused. "As for Kendall, I’ll try a direct approach this afternoon."
"And if her anger at Samarin is due to something more than chagrin at being rescued?"
"Then we will test the Emperor," she said, but sighed and shook her head. "I don’t think it’s that, any more than I think it’s her near-escape. From past remarks, I’m fairly sure this isn’t the first time Kendall has encountered trouble related to being small and pretty. If Samarin had added insult to injury, I’d expect more scratches. A black eye, at the very least."
Besides, Rennyn had contrived to get rid of the Dezart temporarily by presenting the larger portion of the house’s secret library to the Emperor, and Kendall’s mood hadn’t noticeably improved. She was unhappy, not angry.
"Well, I’ll ask," she said reiterated, and let herself be distracted into expending her energy more thoroughly than a flight of stairs would ever take. So nice to no longer have complaining ribs.
"What would happen if I just used Boat Stop Leaking?"
"More than likely that would work," Rennyn said, as she crossed from the door of Kendall’s chosen bedroom. "An emergency solution that you might use if you were going down rapidly. But an unclear construction, allowing the possibility that the casting would expand the definition of stop, fixing the boat in place. And I would expect it to be energy-hungry."
She held out her hand and Kendall handed up a smudged piece of paper. As usual a direct, logical and creative Sigillic, this time dutifully mindful of limitations.
"This comes close to Symbolic," Rennyn said. "You’re not ready for that."
"But would it work?"
"It would depend on your control, and your view of trees. Telling a boat it’s made from a tree and should grow bark might seal the leaks, but there’s every chance you’d gain leaves, branches, roots, or perhaps even enclose the entire boat in bark. If nothing else, there’s a risk your boat would become very heavy." She shrugged. "Or it could work exactly as you wish. I don’t think it would work successfully for me."