Chapter Text
Daine slept long and well, with no dreams that she could remember. By the time she awoke, light was streaming through the gaps in the curtains, making a dappled pattern on the coverlet. Numair’s side of the bed was empty and the cover straightened, and the door to the main room was ajar. Through it she could smell toast and other tempting aromas of breakfast.
She took stock. Her skin, sumptuously bare between the sheets, felt incredibly smooth and soft. Even the hard-earned roughness of her calloused palms felt diminished. She’d best not grasp hands with any of the hostlers or Riders for a day or two, or they’d think her tragically succumbing to a life of idle luxury.
Then again, here she was, rising at leisure in an elegantly appointed bedchamber, still smelling faintly from head to toe of the most unbelievable perfume. That she would keep for the day, and anyone (on two or four legs) who wished to tease her about it could kiss her enviably scented hindquarters.
Agreeably hungry, she washed her face and dressed, choosing a warm forest-green shirt and soft breeches and gathering her hair under a patterned kerchief.
In the main room sat a napkin-covered plate and silverware on the dining table; Numair had already eaten and his set was stacked on the tray. The food under the napkin was as warm as if it were fresh from the kitchens; a tiny glittering sigil on the plate was responsible. It held scrambled eggs with pepper along with three thick slices of toast, a scoop of butter and a spoonful each of blackberry jam and sweet almond paste. Daine put the kettle on the hearth and tucked in with abandon, spreading a thick layer of butter on the toast and loading the eggs on top.
She’d stacked her own dishes and was taking the first sip of tea when Numair let himself in from the hall, a rambunctious bright-blue Kitten in tow.
“Morning, magelet!” he called.
Kit bounded through the room, silver talons scrabbling on the floor, and leapt into Daine’s lap, chirping excited greetings. After the separation of the summer, the dragonet still fretted when she spent the night away from her guardians. Getting to visit Lindhall’s quarters softened the blow quite a bit, however, filled as they were with magical artifacts, interesting People (and their food) and a man she could wrap around her paw even more easily than Numair.
When Kit had had her fill of snuffling Daine’s arms and trying to lick the ends of her hair, Numair swooped in. “My turn,” he pronounced. He took Daine’s hands to pull her gently to her feet and kiss her thoroughly, as if he hadn’t seen her in days.
“You’re in a bonny mood. Not that I’m complaining,” Daine remarked, a bit breathless.
“Why deny myself? You’re positively glowing. Even more so than usual.”
“Oh, hush,” she said. But he wasn’t wrong. She’d seen herself in the mirror when she’d dressed, and she had been unusually bright-eyed and rosy-cheeked — and flush with power, too. She could hear the gulls who nested at the very edge of her range with unusual clarity.
“I take it that you slept well,” he said with a twinkle. “Are you sore at all? How’s your head?”
“Head feels fine,” she reported. She stretched experimentally. “I s’pose I am a teensy bit sore, but mostly I feel wonderful.”
“Excellent.” He tapped his pendant over his shirt, flashing her a grin. “Are you ready to see?”
Daine nodded eagerly, her tea forgotten. Numair went to the rack that held their cloaks and held Daine’s out for her.
“Are we going somewhere?” she asked.
“I could show you here, but we need space to get the full effect — and I want you to see the full effect. Coming, Kit?”
They walked in the direction of the Rider barracks, within sight of the small storeroom that opened onto the meadow. It was still assigned to Daine, but now it mainly held their traveling gear and lesser-used equipment. The storage came in handy on clear nights, when they liked to camp out on the hill to stargaze and catch up with the forest People. Daine’s friends had made it clear that while the academics’ wing was too far and enclosed for most of them to spend the night, they expected her to visit, and to bring the two-legger with the heated rocks as well.
But rather than enter the Riders’ complex, Numair led Daine and Kitten through the pasture, down the hill and into the forest.
As they neared their destination, Daine realized why this particular trail stuck out in her mind.
“Isn’t this where—“
They turned a corner and the trail opened onto a clearing bordering a large pond, the same quiet spot where they’d once seen an undine.
“It is,” he smiled, resting a hand on her shoulder. “Would the People forgive us if we made it dark, briefly?”
Daine reached out and asked the nearby creatures. The Big Cold was on their minds, but most had already paused their foraging to see what the visitors would do, and could spare a short while longer. As expected, the squirrels and songbirds were eager to see human magic, while the mice darted for the safety of their burrows.
“It’s all right, so long as we’re quick.”
Numair nodded once in understanding. “Kitten, would you like to try?”
The dragonet croaked a few times, trying out different tones. After the last one, a magical shade gathered over the clearing and pond— not as dark as night, but almost. Numair could have done it, of course, but Kitten would practice one way or another, and better when it was useful than in the middle of another court function. Come to think of it, perhaps that was when the brocaded ribbons had joined her stockpile.
“You’re getting very good at that,” Numair commented.
Kit gave a bashful little trill.
Numair pulled his necklace from his shirtfront and laid the opal flat in his hand. He closed his eyes and whispered a string of words to it, then raised his head and gazed out over the pond. In an eye-blink an image filled the space above it.
“Oh, glory,” said Daine, and Kitten whistled agreement.
Two trees grew side-by-side out of the still water, one a pure luminous crimson and the other softly shining copper. Together they cast an ethereal, sunrise-golden wash over the darkened clearing, their light glinting like stars along the water’s edge.
The left tree, the crimson one, was arrow-straight and tiered like a tall cedar, as massive and ancient-looking as any of the oldest evergreens in the surrounding wood. Its feathery branches recalled the woodcut Numair had shown her days ago, though she hadn’t realized she’d been looking at a close-up.
The copper tree was equally immense but broader and wilder, its limbs reaching out in all directions like a gnarled oak. The two were close enough for their branches to touch, and near the water’s surface their roots met and intertwined, branching together and filling the murky shallows with veins of light.
Most strikingly of all, the copper tree was unreservedly ablaze. A conflagration of copper fire rose off of every branch, without consuming the oak itself or igniting its ruby neighbor. It was hard to be sure, but as Daine watched the flames, several times she thought she could see forms like living creatures — flickering shapes and outlines that recalled squirrels jumping from bough to bough, monkeys swinging, birds landing and taking flight.
She found Numair’s hand and held it.
“This is what you saw in my mind?”
Numair nodded, just as enthralled by the vision. His eyes gleamed intensely. “What do you see?”
Daine knew he meant more than a physical description. “The red tree, the one that’s like a cedar...I think that’s my life force, like you showed me in the book.”
Numair’s expression told her she was right.
“But my magic’s not coming from there. It’s…it almost looks like a life force all its own. Another one.” She looked at Numair questioningly.
“I completely agree. Oh, this is magnificent, magelet. It answers so many questions.” He squeezed her hand, his face alive with wonder and excitement. “See these roots?” He stepped forward and pointed to the dual colors lacing the water, thick taproots that met near the trunks and wove together, delving and narrowing into fine projections that brushed the shore. “Now look here. Watch.”
He pulled Daine close and positioned her hand palm-up between them, resting his free hand softly on the back of her neck. For a few moments they just breathed, and then suddenly Daine had his magical vision again, and could see the delicate tracery of both red and copper fire running down the length of her arm and hand. She leaned down to examine it closely. Numair watched her face and laughed ecstatically as she made the connection.
“Do you see? The existence of an animal life force has always been a matter of debate. I was sure that there must be one, but I could never work out how to see it. Now it makes sense: I have seen it, every time I see wild magic.”
Daine was lost for words. At length Numair tucked his opal back into his shirt, letting the image fade away, and perched on the rock that sat in the middle of the clearing. He waved a hand casually as if clearing smoke, and sunlight filtered back into the space.
Kitten whistled her indignation; she preferred undoing her own spells. “Oops — sorry, Kit. We’ll practice your shadows more tonight, how’s that,” said Numair. Kitten came and nuzzled his hand; he was forgiven.
Daine assumed her favorite spot next to Numair, tucked against his side. He looped an arm around her shoulder and pressed a kiss into her crown for good measure. They listened as the wood slowly re-filled with the sounds of daytime creatures at work.
She felt a little bereft without the stunning scene of the Unconscious to look at. Her Unconscious, she reminded herself. The unrestrained beauty of the copper oak set against the blood-red cedar, both shining their power...to know that they were part of her made her feel Divine, for all that she’d chosen a mortal existence.
“What are you thinking of?” Numair queried, after some time had passed.
Daine came out of her reverie. “Just— how lovely that was, I s'pose. Being able to see that...it’s something wondrous.”
“It truly is," he replied wistfully. "I feel privileged to have caught a glimpse of it. Like so much of what I’ve seen because of you.”
“I’d say the same,” said Daine, feeling a sudden gratitude for all that she had settle around her like an oversized cloak.
“When we get back, I’ll make some sketches. The image will fade eventually, but if you want to see it again, just ask.”
Daine nodded, then rose and stretched.
"Is it all right if I show this to Baird?” Numair asked, indicating his opal as they headed back up the trail. “Oh, and Lindhall would be over the moon to see it. And perhaps one other person...”
“Show anyone you like,” Daine laughed. “It might change some of the slower mages’ minds about wild magic.”
“That may be asking too much,” Numair said ruefully. “But we can try. You should write down anything you can remember from your side, so that we can publish our experiences — if you decide you want to, that is. In any case, I’m curious to know what it was like for you.”
Daine grinned playfully. “Well, you see, there was this tall, rakishly handsome mage — a mite eccentric, but he had the most incredibly clever hands…”
Numair tweaked her nose. “I meant the part after that, magelet. The meditation. Though I’m glad you liked the other.”
“Hmm,” Daine said, thinking back. “It was like a dream of being in the ocean, more or less. I think I could feel your feelings, oddly enough. Then everything got fair confusing, just for a second — I’m not sure if it was you who felt like that, or me. But mostly it was peaceful as anything.”
“A dream of the ocean,” Numair echoed thoughtfully. “Interesting.” Daine could see him sifting through the information she’d given, organizing it in his mind for later examination.
“I couldn’t tell time from where I was,” she remembered. “Did it take very long?”
“Not at all. Perhaps ten minutes at the outside. I could easily have stayed longer, had I known you were comfortable — though I thought you might be. The meditation spell required almost nothing in terms of power; I’m not sure we even needed it.” He smiled wryly. “It was one of my better-laid plans, I believe.”
“Mm,” Daine agreed, snuggling into him as the trail broadened. “You know, I think you told me once, it’s best not to generalize from one experience.”
“That is certainly true. Given your heritage, we shouldn't assume that wild magic operates the same way in everyone who possesses it.” A grin lit his face. “But I somehow doubt that Onua or Stefan would be quite so accommodating of my methods. Best to leave it as a case study for now.”
Daine dissolved into laughter — that hadn’t been what she’d meant, but the idea of either request was too funny.
"Well,” she said finally, patting his arm. “If you want to do more workings with me, I don’t mind at all. Even if you just want an audience for your tricks."
Numair beamed. "Careful, sweet, I might take you up on that. It’d be nice to finally have someone to procure...what was it? Moss from the east side of—” Daine went straight for the ticklish region at the bottom of his rib cage.
“I’m joking, of course,” he said solemnly, once he’d fended off her attack and secured her in the circle of his arm once more. “Nothing would make me happier."
Almost nothing went unsaid, though Daine knew it was there, waiting for her to one day be ready.
"We can explore whatever magics you like, now that time is on our side.”