true commandants of fire and blaze, those who gave life and took it.
"There it is, little rascal." Darius's wizened fingers held a pair of miniature pliers, delicate like the clock device on the table, which at this moment ticked seven times, a silvery tune permeating the silence.
No, the room had not been silent, not really. Tens or maybe hundreds of other clock-like devices, scattered throughout the room into what seemed an organized chaos, had not stopped ticking, humming, clicking, and altogether singing since Merley had entered. Together, their sounds blurred into a constant buzz, which was somewhat sleepy and somehow reassuring. Never had there been any sounds in Henna's learning room, except for the occasional click of her rod on the table, which was always a warning. The desks had always been spotless and cold, nothing but arranged quills and paper on the gleaming metal.
"Ah, it is better now." The sunrise danced over Darius's newly clamped pince-nez, and for a moment his calm blue eyes gleamed sharp and red. Then, the red was gone, but even through the barrier of glass Merley knew that a hint of the sharpness lingered. Different from Henna's overbearing sharpness, perhaps. But sharpness still, and Merley knew to beware of sharp enemies.
"So tell me, child, what do you see?"
The old man had settled into a soft chair, his eyes focused on something beyond the wall-wide window. Still standing, Merley folded her arms before her chest, forcing herself to inhale deeply and withhold anger and tears.
" Tell me, " " show me, " " do it. " They all wanted something from her, and never gave anything back. " You must learn how to crawl before you can learn to walk, " they said—and Henna's rod had done its best to make Merley crawl before its mistress, although Merley wielded fire better than Henna ever had. She wielded it better than any of them, which of course made them hate her. I hate you, too. Clasping her hands more strongly, Merley approached the window, her breath fogging the glass as she leaned towards it. You too, old man. And I have always known how to walk. I want to learn to fly, and none of you can stop me .
"Here is what I see," she said after she had succeeded to control her breathing, certain that he would not mistake the contempt in her voice. "I see fire." It was a ritual phrase, which they all expected to hear. Fire was the source of all life there was in the world. Fire was the essence of Mierenthia. Wherever you were, whatever you did, if you were a Ber, you saw fire.
"I see Mierber and the Sun, Adept Darius. I see mountains." I see the blazing tops of both buildings and snow-laden peaks, and I hear the song the evergreen trees sing to welcome the morning, as well as the sleepy murmur of those that had chosen to shed their leaves, praying for healthy green garments when the life of spring wakes them.
Merley stepped back, suddenly drawn away from the mountains and to the little alarm clock. Her eyes caressed its matte face and silvery hands, but her own hands kept away from an object that belonged to another. She knew how it had felt when her fellow novices had touched her own belongings.
The old man was watching her, the sharpness more eminent than before, and once more she drew further away, then glared at him. He was waiting.
"Do not worry, Adept Darius, they have not forced a dumb student upon you, whatever else they might have told you about me. I know my lessons." She folded her arms before her chest again. "With my inner eyes, I see the treasures that the mountain hoards for us." So sure is everyone that the mountain does not have any other purpose. "I see the fire of the Sun transforming the rock into ores of iron, gold, silver, and copper, and I see the Mines cutting deep into the bowels of Mierenthia, helping bring the ores to us—"
"Is that what you really see, Merley?"
Somehow the old man's voice was even kinder, the gaze behind his pince-nez twinkling not with sharpness but with
"There it is, little rascal." Darius's wizened fingers held a pair of miniature pliers, delicate like the clock device on the table, which at this moment ticked seven times, a silvery tune permeating the silence.
No, the room had not been silent, not really. Tens or maybe hundreds of other clock-like devices, scattered throughout the room into what seemed an organized chaos, had not stopped ticking, humming, clicking, and altogether singing since Merley had entered. Together, their sounds blurred into a constant buzz, which was somewhat sleepy and somehow reassuring. Never had there been any sounds in Henna's learning room, except for the occasional click of her rod on the table, which was always a warning. The desks had always been spotless and cold, nothing but arranged quills and paper on the gleaming metal.
"Ah, it is better now." The sunrise danced over Darius's newly clamped pince-nez, and for a moment his calm blue eyes gleamed sharp and red. Then, the red was gone, but even through the barrier of glass Merley knew that a hint of the sharpness lingered. Different from Henna's overbearing sharpness, perhaps. But sharpness still, and Merley knew to beware of sharp enemies.
"So tell me, child, what do you see?"
The old man had settled into a soft chair, his eyes focused on something beyond the wall-wide window. Still standing, Merley folded her arms before her chest, forcing herself to inhale deeply and withhold anger and tears.
" Tell me, " " show me, " " do it. " They all wanted something from her, and never gave anything back. " You must learn how to crawl before you can learn to walk, " they said—and Henna's rod had done its best to make Merley crawl before its mistress, although Merley wielded fire better than Henna ever had. She wielded it better than any of them, which of course made them hate her. I hate you, too. Clasping her hands more strongly, Merley approached the window, her breath fogging the glass as she leaned towards it. You too, old man. And I have always known how to walk. I want to learn to fly, and none of you can stop me .
"Here is what I see," she said after she had succeeded to control her breathing, certain that he would not mistake the contempt in her voice. "I see fire." It was a ritual phrase, which they all expected to hear. Fire was the source of all life there was in the world. Fire was the essence of Mierenthia. Wherever you were, whatever you did, if you were a Ber, you saw fire.
"I see Mierber and the Sun, Adept Darius. I see mountains." I see the blazing tops of both buildings and snow-laden peaks, and I hear the song the evergreen trees sing to welcome the morning, as well as the sleepy murmur of those that had chosen to shed their leaves, praying for healthy green garments when the life of spring wakes them.
Merley stepped back, suddenly drawn away from the mountains and to the little alarm clock. Her eyes caressed its matte face and silvery hands, but her own hands kept away from an object that belonged to another. She knew how it had felt when her fellow novices had touched her own belongings.
The old man was watching her, the sharpness more eminent than before, and once more she drew further away, then glared at him. He was waiting.
"Do not worry, Adept Darius, they have not forced a dumb student upon you, whatever else they might have told you about me. I know my lessons." She folded her arms before her chest again. "With my inner eyes, I see the treasures that the mountain hoards for us." So sure is everyone that the mountain does not have any other purpose. "I see the fire of the Sun transforming the rock into ores of iron, gold, silver, and copper, and I see the Mines cutting deep into the bowels of Mierenthia, helping bring the ores to us—"
"Is that what you really see, Merley?"
Somehow the old man's voice was even kinder, the gaze behind his pince-nez twinkling not with sharpness but with
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