“Why are you training him again?” I asked when the silence finally became unbearable.
“Wizards have ways of detecting others of their kind,” Pascal said, pouring the coffee. “It’s a difficult technique, but one he needs to learn regardless of whether he wants to stay a step ahead or seek Dorwan out.”
“It looked like he was in pain,” I said.
“He was struggling with himself,” Pascal corrected me. “Over the years he’s become more and more convinced that magic is nothing more than pain and destruction. It’s hard to persuade him otherwise, especially after all that’s happened to him and his father.”
“I don’t understand,” I said slowly. “Don’t you use Astraea’s teachings in your lessons?”
“Those are the myths,” Pascal said. “The reality is that magic is little more than a curse.”
“They are not myths!” I said.
Pascal held up his hand. “You may believe whatever you choose to believe, but understand this, Miss Mirabil: magic is a responsibility, a burden, a duty. You are a slave to your faith and country. You don’t choose to have it. Very few of us would, given the choice.”
“Some wizards seem to enjoy having power,” I said.
“Dorwan?” Pascal said. “I’ve often wondered if it isn’t a weight for him as well. From what Wayland’s told me, he wasn’t allowed to participate in the ranking tournaments due to the circumstances of his upbringing. He didn’t fit in with the hedges as a grown man, but he certainly couldn’t join wizard society. He was trapped between what he wanted and what he could actually have. Perhaps that’s why Wayland stayed with him as long as he did—they were both outcasts.
“They must have been together for six, maybe seven months before Wayland decided to leave. Dorwan disappeared, only to show up again a few years later at Provincia, demanding a meeting with the Sorceress Imperial. She refused to see him, by all accounts.”
“How long ago was this?” I asked.
“Two years ago, I believe,” Pascal said. “Right after the Sorceress Imperial had taken her oath of office.”
I shook my head. “I can’t believe North would ever choose to associate with Dorwan. They’re completely different wizards.”
“Different upbringings, different choices,” Pascal said, rubbing his forehead. “You may not get to choose whether you’re born with magic, you may not get to choose the people you’re born to—but how you conduct yourself is entirely up to you.”
I set my empty cup down beside me, unsure of how to ask my next question. “Do you think that magic can exist in someone without them knowing it?”
“There are always possibilities. Take Oliver, for instance. He never would have recognized the ability within himself if Wayland hadn’t come across him in town and begged me to train him.”
“But it is possible that a person, even without training, could use magic?” I pressed. “Has that ever happened before?”
Pascal gave me a curious look. “I suppose it’s possible, though it would be extremely difficult to control it. Magic exists everywhere, all the time. It never abandons us, though it can punish and compel us if we don’t learn to master it. It is a tool, much like your loom.”
Pascal glanced over at the unfinished cloak. “You are the wizard, and you can use that loom to shape the thread to create colors or shift patterns,” he finished.
Something in his words struck me deeply, and I was on my feet before I even realized it.
“Where are you going?” he asked, startled.
“Just outside for a little bit,” I said. “I want to walk around in the snow before it’s gone. Will you tell North where I am?”
He nodded. “Don’t stray too far from the house—and watch your footing. It would be extremely irritating to have to dig your body out of some snowdrift.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I said dryly. I picked up a blanket from the floor and wrapped it tightly around my shoulders. With my boots on and my hair pulled back, I stepped out into a world of white, the likes of which I had never seen before.
I had things to do, but more important, things to think about.
Later that day, as I helped Lady Aphra mix elixirs and drafts, I tried to shake Pascal’s words from my mind. You are the wizard, and you can use that loom to shape the thread to create colors or shift patterns.
“I’m surprised you learned so many mixtures in so short a time,” Lady Aphra said. “What made you decide to learn?”
“In the beginning, it was because I wanted to know what North was hiding,” I admitted. “But I like it. It’s something I can do without him, something that comes easily to me.”
“I’m sure Wayland appreciates it,” Lady Aphra said. “He never was very good at mixing them. If you’re interested, I have a more in-depth book. It’s fairly old, but it’s served me well. I’m not sure there’s much else I can get from it.”
I nodded. “I would love it, if you’re sure you won’t need it.”
She tapped her forehead. “I have it all up here now. That’s what age does to you.”
Back outside for a walk, my feet had a miserable time against the patches of ice, and dirt caked the wet hem of my dress. I stayed out for only a short time and shut the door of Lady Aphra’s cottage behind me silently, feeling the warm air prick my frozen skin, a delicious relief.
“Does it matter?” North’s voice carried from the other room. “I told you I tried, but it didn’t have any effect—none whatsoever.”
“Did you try with a fresh sample?” Pascal asked. “I don’t think this will do anything. It’s lost its potency.”
“Once, and it was enough to realize the amount I needed would be fatal,” North said.
“This may be your only chance,” Pascal said. “You didn’t seem opposed to the idea when you first wrote to me about it.”
“Things have changed,” North said tightly. “I’m not so sure the journey to Provincia will be worth it now—if they find out about the jinx, it will all be over.”
“The choices will be death or subjugation,” Pascal said. “You might as well use it now.”