business of yours."
"Is it a secret? I was told you're from one of the villages destroyed by the Grand Summoning, that you don't have any connection to the Claires. No background in magery, haven't even passed the first rank of the Sigillic comprehension tests. Can you read?"
It would be interesting to see how much of a necklace would fit up this snot's nose. It could count as unpacking—or she could say he'd distracted her and it was an accident. Better to ignore him, though she didn't want to keep practicing while he was there. And it was annoying as spit that he was right, that she couldn't cast a single Sigillic, that Rennyn wouldn't let her try.
Lacking a response, the boy went on: "It would be tremendously ironic if an unlettered—"
"Unmannered?"
Sebastian Claire stood in the shadow of the nearest archway. He had the same colouring as his sister, but was nearly ten years younger, having turned sixteen just before the beginning of the Black Queen's return. The thing to remember about Sebastian was that he lived and breathed magic, and thought everyone else should do the same. For all that, Kendall had seen him be sharp enough about the real world whenever he bothered to pull his head out of the Eferum.
"You must be Sebastian Claire," said the boy, sounding pleased. "I—"
"No, really, you'd do better to shut up," Sebastian said. "I've no time for people who are rude to my friends."
The boy looked startled, then flushed and glanced down at Kendall. "I suppose I was. My mouth ran on." He bowed, quick and deep from the waist. "Your pardon. I just wanted to know. Another time, Lord Sebastian." He nodded, bit his lip and left, sand crunching beneath his shoes.
Sebastian plopped down to one side of the chest and looked over Kendall's piles. "Garish stuff," he said. "I don't suppose Solace wore much of this, either. A couple of centuries of Surclere heirlooms."
"Did you know him?" Kendall asked, not willing to be so easily distracted.
"No. Probably another one wanting to be Ren's student. All week I've had people making bright suggestions, some more subtle than others, about putting in a good word for this or that promising mage."
"Has she said she wants more?" Kendall asked, warily.
"Everyone wants her to want more. They'd have her instructing classes at the Arkathan if they thought she'd agree. Ren hates the idea of people killing themselves trying to cast like she does, but she knows she can't personally tutor every would-be Thought Mage in Tyrland."
"It would be good for Tyrland though, right? Teaching as many mages as possible to cast like you and Rennyn?"
"You can't just teach people to cast like us. You can show them the path, but it's not like maths, where you add one and one and end up with two. We're not rote mages." He glanced down at the nearly empty chest. "How were you emptying these bags, for instance?
Kendall, with pleasing surety, reached with her thoughts and tugged open the top of one bag, lifted it and tipped it until a bunch of rings fell out into the sand.
"Like an extra pair of hands, right?" Sebastian's eyes narrowed and the last of the bags hefted itself. But instead of upending, it writhed briefly, and a dull gold bracelet slid out.
"How do you move the bracelet without seeing it?" Kendall asked, impressed.
"With fingers you have a sense of touch. You can tell weight, texture, temperature—all sorts of things. And Thought Magic is even more than fingers. There's a big leap beyond making things move, and I doubt many could even learn to do that reliably. Some just can't attain that sort of mental discipline—they stopped teaching it not simply because it's dangerous, but because it's hard."
"I just don't see how to move something I can't see."
"It's a leap," Sebastian said, agreeably. "But keep at it. Thought Magic isn't as dangerous as they make out—at least not during the extra-pair-of-hands stage—and you've more than enough sense to not do anything outside your exercises.
"Is it a secret? I was told you're from one of the villages destroyed by the Grand Summoning, that you don't have any connection to the Claires. No background in magery, haven't even passed the first rank of the Sigillic comprehension tests. Can you read?"
It would be interesting to see how much of a necklace would fit up this snot's nose. It could count as unpacking—or she could say he'd distracted her and it was an accident. Better to ignore him, though she didn't want to keep practicing while he was there. And it was annoying as spit that he was right, that she couldn't cast a single Sigillic, that Rennyn wouldn't let her try.
Lacking a response, the boy went on: "It would be tremendously ironic if an unlettered—"
"Unmannered?"
Sebastian Claire stood in the shadow of the nearest archway. He had the same colouring as his sister, but was nearly ten years younger, having turned sixteen just before the beginning of the Black Queen's return. The thing to remember about Sebastian was that he lived and breathed magic, and thought everyone else should do the same. For all that, Kendall had seen him be sharp enough about the real world whenever he bothered to pull his head out of the Eferum.
"You must be Sebastian Claire," said the boy, sounding pleased. "I—"
"No, really, you'd do better to shut up," Sebastian said. "I've no time for people who are rude to my friends."
The boy looked startled, then flushed and glanced down at Kendall. "I suppose I was. My mouth ran on." He bowed, quick and deep from the waist. "Your pardon. I just wanted to know. Another time, Lord Sebastian." He nodded, bit his lip and left, sand crunching beneath his shoes.
Sebastian plopped down to one side of the chest and looked over Kendall's piles. "Garish stuff," he said. "I don't suppose Solace wore much of this, either. A couple of centuries of Surclere heirlooms."
"Did you know him?" Kendall asked, not willing to be so easily distracted.
"No. Probably another one wanting to be Ren's student. All week I've had people making bright suggestions, some more subtle than others, about putting in a good word for this or that promising mage."
"Has she said she wants more?" Kendall asked, warily.
"Everyone wants her to want more. They'd have her instructing classes at the Arkathan if they thought she'd agree. Ren hates the idea of people killing themselves trying to cast like she does, but she knows she can't personally tutor every would-be Thought Mage in Tyrland."
"It would be good for Tyrland though, right? Teaching as many mages as possible to cast like you and Rennyn?"
"You can't just teach people to cast like us. You can show them the path, but it's not like maths, where you add one and one and end up with two. We're not rote mages." He glanced down at the nearly empty chest. "How were you emptying these bags, for instance?
Kendall, with pleasing surety, reached with her thoughts and tugged open the top of one bag, lifted it and tipped it until a bunch of rings fell out into the sand.
"Like an extra pair of hands, right?" Sebastian's eyes narrowed and the last of the bags hefted itself. But instead of upending, it writhed briefly, and a dull gold bracelet slid out.
"How do you move the bracelet without seeing it?" Kendall asked, impressed.
"With fingers you have a sense of touch. You can tell weight, texture, temperature—all sorts of things. And Thought Magic is even more than fingers. There's a big leap beyond making things move, and I doubt many could even learn to do that reliably. Some just can't attain that sort of mental discipline—they stopped teaching it not simply because it's dangerous, but because it's hard."
"I just don't see how to move something I can't see."
"It's a leap," Sebastian said, agreeably. "But keep at it. Thought Magic isn't as dangerous as they make out—at least not during the extra-pair-of-hands stage—and you've more than enough sense to not do anything outside your exercises.
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