Lessons in Familiarity
Brandon and Plum quickly got swept back up by the crowd. Brandon caught sight of her a few times throughout the rest of the night. She had a drink in her hand more often than not, and spent much of the night very obviously flirting with that provincial lass with the large assets. Brandon tried to ignore the twist in his chest at that. Every time Brandon caught a glimpse, her face was a little more flushed with the wine.
Before long, Brandon had had enough. He filtered his way through the crowd and made his escape through one of the servants’ doors, which led him back into the hall of the Vermillion Keep.
Free from the ballroom, Brandon took a few moments to breathe before making his way back towards his chambers. He didn’t make it thirty feet before he heard a call from behind him.
“Addie!” Plum called from the servants’ door. “Where are you going?” Her voice was slurred and thick with alcohol.
“Plum!” he cried. “Do not call me that in the halls!”
“Ugh, right,” the eye roll was almost audible. Brandon winced like he’d been hit. “Where are you going?” she asked again.
“Back to my chambers, Plum. I have had my fill of the ball.”
“Mmkay, lemme come,” Plum slurred, stumbling towards him.
“How much did you drink?”
“Enough,” she said. Brandon steadied her with a hand on her shoulder. “C’mon, love,” Plum insisted.
Brandon helped walk her down the halls and up the stairs to the hall where both of their rooms were. “You are too drunk, Plumeria,” he remarked after one near-tumble down the stairs.
“Maybe you are not drunk enough, Adelaide,” she bit back, and Brandon shot her a look.
Plum’s room was just past Brandon’s, and as they passed his Plum dragged at his arm. “C’mon, your room is here,” she whined.
“You are too drunk,” he said again. “I am taking you to yours.” Brandon ignored her mumbles of protest and led her down the hall. “You need to rest.”
The two got to their room and Brandon unlocked the door with his key—the two of them had had keys for each other’s rooms for as long as he could remember. Meeks, Plum’s cat and familiar, was just waking up from where he had been curled up on the bed. He stretched and yawned and meowed happily to see the two of them, and Brandon chuckled at the sight of his long, fluffy, black and white fur smooshed flat where he had slept on it. A familiar was a red magician’s companion and a way for them to store excess mana, an animal that they formed an arcane bond with. Brandon should have had one years ago.
Plum drunkenly crooned over Meeks while Adelaide safely closed and locked the door behind them. That done, Adelaide eased Plum down onto the bed.
Plum murmured something that Adelaide couldn’t make out, and she busied herself with making sure Plum was taken care of. She helped her already half-asleep friend out of her shoes and jewelry, and got her a glass of water and left it on the bedside table and a bucket in case she was sick. She made sure Meeks had food and water, and tidied up Plum’s countertops a touch while she was at it. That done, she sat on the edge of the bed and simply watched Plum for a moment. Her eyes were closed, and her hair half covered her face. Her chest rose and fell softly. Adelaide could still smell her perfume from here.
Adelaide flushed and stood to leave, but stopped when Plum caught her hand in hers. Adelaide flushed deeper and turned to look at Plum, who seemed suddenly wide awake.
“I didn’t do your hair,” she said, wide-eyed. “I’m sorry.”
Adelaide smiled. “‘Tis alright, Plum,” she said softly. “Get some rest.” She turned again to go.
“You could stay.”
Adelaide’s cheeks felt like they were on fire. She turned to look at Plum, but the other girl was already asleep again. Adelaide hesitated for a moment before turning and leaving Plum’s chamber.
Adelaide woke the next morning before sunrise, as she usually did. She stretched out, rubbed the sleep from her eyes, and went to the toilet before she noticed the note that had been slipped under her door. The handwriting was neat and smooth, with each word done in one single stroke of the pen. It reminded Adelaide of a painting of a river.
Meet me in the west courtyard at the ninth hour.
-LT
Fair enough.
Adelaide went through the same getting ready process that she had yesterday. Hair (at least 5 pins this time), clothes and sash, shave, makeup, and then the daily use of her strange power. Satisfied enough, she slid her wand into her sash and prepared for the arduous process of waking Plum up early.
Adelaide made her way down to the kitchens and picked up some breakfast. She picked out some hearty toast, scrambled eggs, and the crispiest bacon she could find, and a mug of strong black coffee.
Adelaide crept down the hall to Plum’s room and quietly stepped in. She picked up the matching letter from the floor and placed it on the table by the door, right next to her breakfast. Plum was still passed out, of course. She looked like she hadn’t even moved since Adelaide left her the night before. If the glass of water on the bedside table weren’t now empty, Adelaide would be checking her pulse.
Meeks lifted his head up and chirruped happily at Adelaide as she sat down on Plum’s bed. She reached out to touch Plum’s shoulder and hesitated for a moment. A few beams of light were peeking out through the curtains and falling on Plum’s sleeping body. The dim sunlight dappled across her skin, and yesterday’s makeup was still somehow nearly perfect after sleeping on it all night.
Adelaide shook herself out of her staring and nudged Plum’s shoulder. Plum made a noncommittal sound that made Adelaide think she might be about to wake up—but then she rolled over away from Adelaide. Adelaide sighed and nudged her again, more insistently this time.
“Plumeria,” Adelaide said, sing-songy. “‘Tis time to wake up.”
Plum murmured something and tried to roll away from Adelaide, but Adelaide kept at it and bothered her until she rolled over and looked her in the eye.
“Mmm.”
“Good morning to you too, Plum,” Adelaide replied, scratching Meeks behind the ears.
“What time is it?” Plum asked, easing herself up to a sitting position.
“Just after eighth hour. Magician Laszlo asked us to meet in the west courtyard at ninth. I got you breakfast!” Adelaide cheerily grabbed the plate and mug she had prepared for Plum and brought it over to the bed.
Plum eagerly grabbed at the coffee and started downing it like her life depended on it. It probably felt like it did. She drained the mug in record time and then moved on to the food with equal vigor.
“Someone was hungry,” Adelaide joked.
“Piss off,” Plum retorted through a mouthful of scrambled eggs.
Adelaide gave Plum a minute to eat while she refilled her glass of water. “How does your head feel?” she asked, already knowing the answer.
“Ow,” Plum replied simply.
“How much did you have?”
“Too much. Or maybe not enough.”
Adelaide handed Plum the water, who took it wordlessly and drank a few mouthfuls.
Plum was polishing off her breakfast, and Adelaide supplied a handkerchief for her to wipe her fingers. As she handed it back, Plum locked eyes with Adelaide.
“Thank you,” she said, suddenly very intense. “You do not have to do all this, you know.”
“I know,” Adelaide replied simply.
Plum smiled that gleaming smile that made Adelaide’s heart skip a beat. “Well, I suppose I should get out of bed now,” she said wryly.
Adelaide nodded. “I shall let you get ready,” she said and made to go for the door.
“No, wait.” Adelaide paused. “Stay and help me get ready,” Plum demanded. “I shall need someone to tie my dress.” Plum stood and stretched, and the muscles in her arms and shoulders tensed and flexed. Adelaide busied herself, red and flushed, with looking anywhere else. “And I shall do your hair if you like.”
Adelaide felt the heat rush to her cheeks. Plum smirked as Adelaide stammered out an agreement. Plum sauntered over to her wardrobe and selected a dress, and then ducked behind the partition to get changed. Meeks, purring happily, curled up on Adelaide’s lap.
“Are you excited?” Adelaide asked.
“What, to learn the magic of my mother’s homeland from some strange old man with a walrus moustache?” She paused, and Adelaide glanced over at the partition. “Yes actually, I suppose I am.
“You know I shall never be one to turn away the chance to learn more about the art. Our teacher may be… unassuming, but one would hope that any with the title of Magician would be skilled enough to teach.” She stepped around the partition holding the strings of her dress in her hands, the fabric loosely draping her shoulders. The dress was deep blue, a bit more modest and less bombastic than the one from last night. It had a simple laced bodice and flowed around Plum’s ankles like water. Adelaide wondered if the color choice was intentional—it almost certainly was. “Tie me up, would you?” Plum asked her.
Adelaide flushed and stood to begin lacing up Plum’s dress. She murmured an apology to Meeks, who mrrped, disgruntled, as Adelaide moved him off her lap. Plum continued, nonplussed. “The blue is rather opaque to me, if I am being honest. The chance to learn from a blue Magician is too appealing to pass up.” Adelaide tightened the knot on Plum’s dress and nodded, pleased with her work. Plum turned and looked her in the eyes again. “Are you? Excited, I mean.”
Adelaide considered for a moment. “I am… nervous, frankly,” she replied sheepishly. “I worry that I will be unable to grasp it. The red has been difficult enough for me.”
Plum was nodding knowingly. “I understand, love,” she said with a squeeze of Adelaide’s hand. “If it helps, I expect I shall be right there with you.”
“It does not.”
Plum laughed that brilliant laugh that sounded like soft bells pealing in the wind, and Adelaide smiled.
“Well, fair enough I suppose.”
Plum washed her face and began in on her makeup, but before long she put the brush down, exasperated. “Addie,” she implored. “Could you do my makeup for me? It always looks better when you do it.”
Adelaide rolled her eyes and smiled. “Of course,” she said, pulling up a chair to face Plum in hers. She began applying the makeup, and gently swatted at Plum’s nose with the brush when she tried to say something. “No talking,” she said softly. “Your jaw moving will make a mess of it.”
Adelaide applied foundation and contour, a glittering gold eyeshadow, and eyeliner in great swooping wings. Mascara followed, and then a generous layer of blush to her cheeks and nose. Her hand was on Plum’s cheek to steady her head, and Adelaide found herself again glancing down to Plum’s lips, bare and slightly parted so she could see the white of her teeth. She flushed and pulled her hand back. Her work was good enough anyway.
Plum examined herself in the mirror for a few moments, fixed her hair briefly, and nodded. “As I said,” she murmured, and then smiled at Adelaide. “Perfect.”
Plum gestured for Adelaide to turn around, and then began on her hair. She dug out the pins (“6 pins, Addie? Really, love?”) and let her hair fall down around her shoulders. Adelaide’s hair now reached to about halfway down her shoulder blades—though it would be far longer if it were straight. Plum’s fingers brushed through Adelaide’s hair and over her scalp as she gathered up a bundle of hair and began braiding it. She had to chase Meeks away from batting at Adelaide’s hair.
“Do you remember,” Plum began softly, her voice inches from Adelaide’s ear, “the first time we did this?” Adelaide tried to nod but Plum tutted. “Keep your head still,” she said, placing her hand on the back of Adelaide’s neck briefly. “You mustn’t have been older than 13, so I was perhaps 15. You had just told me your… little secret a few days before. I was so thrilled to have another girl in the Keep and I was so eager to doll you up, so to speak.” Adelaide flushed. “I remember you cried when you looked at yourself in the mirror, and I thought that I had done such a poor job if that was your reaction.” She chuckled softly, and Adelaide felt her breath on the back of her neck. “We were so young, were we not? I had just cast my first major arcana, I believe.”
“You speak as if we are old and grey, Plum,” Adelaide replied. “You’re only 26.”
“True enough, I suppose.” She sighed, and quietly finished Adelaide’s braid. Satisfied, she leaned back in her chair and handed Adelaide a hand mirror. Plum had braided a section of her hair and curled it into a loop around the back of her head, creating a half-up hairstyle. It made Adelaide feel beautiful, and she told Plum as much. Plum blessed her with one of her dazzling smiles, and Adelaide felt her heart skip a beat.
“You look beautiful, Adelaide,” she said softly.
Adelaide felt the blood rush to her cheeks and suddenly couldn’t meet Plum’s eyes. She busied herself with scratching Meeks under the chin. He purred happily and curled up in Adelaide’s lap again.
Plum cleared her throat and stood. “Well,” she exclaimed with a clap of her hands. “Shall we?” Adelaide thought she detected a hint more pink in her cheeks than she’d applied with the blush.
Adelaide apologetically moved Meeks off of her lap again, and stood to follow Plum. The other woman was strapping her wand sheath to her hip and throwing on a black, furred shawl. She looked almost more elegant than she had the previous night, and just as radiant. Adelaide adjusted her sash, took a deep breath, and followed her out of the room, Meeks close on their heels.
Brandon quickly caught up to Plum, who looped her arm through his.
“What do you expect he shall teach us?” Plum mused.
“I expect he shall start with the basics of the blue,” Brandon replied. “Drawing mana, basic runes, that sort of thing.”
“Perhaps, perhaps. Which position do you think he favors?” she asked, referring to the grip a magician used for their wand.
“Fourth, definitely.” Fourth position was held like a sword, with one’s fingers curled around the base of the wand and the wand pointing upwards.
“Really?” Plum asked bemusedly. “You think him so crude?”
“‘Tis not crude, Plumeria. Fourth position has a certain power behind it. You ought to consider using aught else than second, every once in a while. They all have their uses.”
“Perhaps.” Plum’s lips quirked at a servant girl with long blonde tresses walking down the hall. “Or perhaps one position is all I need.” Plum winked at the girl, who flushed deeply and scampered off. Brandon tried to ignore the twisting in his gut.
The two walked the rest of the way to the west courtyard in relative silence. They laughed as Meeks tried to murder a sunbeam, but otherwise Brandon was simply enjoying the quiet. The Keep was always bustling later in the day, but this early, things were quiet and calm and beautiful. The long hallways of the Vermillion Keep were all marble and carmine, brilliant whites and deep, violent reds. Vines draped the walls, supporting the dim organic glowlamps, and their carefully, magically sculpted placement looked almost natural. The sunlight filtered in through sheer off-white curtains, giving the entire Keep a soft, gentle warmth in spite of the cold polished stone of the floors. The halls themselves were labyrinthine. One of Brandon and Plum’s earliest lessons as children had been to memorize the floor plan of the upper levels of the Keep. It had taken Brandon three weeks. Plum took four days.
Before long, the two came to a large, open archway. The sun peeked over the roof of the Keep, beaming down unfiltered into the west courtyard. The large red maple tree in the center dominated the courtyard, and rosebeds and benches lined the outskirts. Surrounding the tree were clean, paved, white stone pathways, and a large, open yard of clover and freshly shorn grass filled the spaces between.
Sitting under the tree, next to a stack of books half as tall as he was, was Laszlo Tolemas. He held a book in hand, and on top of the stack of books was a dark brown, finely made derby cap. He glanced up at Plum and Brandon as they stepped under the arch, and his moustache danced as he grinned at them.
“Right on time!” Laszlo exclaimed, glancing at his pocket watch. He wore well-tailored pants and a matching vest, so dark blue they were almost black, over a white buttoned shirt, with a vibrant blue tie and matching sash. Brandon noticed a simple, pale wooden wand poking out of his sash. Laszlo stood and gave a deep bow, sweeping the hat into his hand as he did. The lightning-bolt scar on his face shimmered in the sunlight. “‘Tis an honor to be given the chance to impart my humble knowledge upon the next generation of magicians.”
“‘Tis an honor to be imparted,” Plum replied with a curtsy, and Brandon gave him the customary shallow bow. “Tell me,” Plum continued. “What was it that brought a magician of the blue to the Vermillion Keep?”
“I came for the ball, Madam Plumeria,” Laszlo answered courteously, placing the cap upon his head with a flourish. “I came accompanying my knight, Dame Obella Viridian.”
“Curious,” Plum said with a raised eyebrow. “I have never heard of a Dame Obella Viridian.”
“Understandable, Madam. Although my liege is a kind and great knight, and by law a member of the peerage, she is not well immersed in inter-house politics.”
“If she is worthy of half the esteem you laud her with, I should be very pleased to meet her.”
“I am certain such a meeting could be arranged, Madam,” Laszlo said with a smile and a tilt of his head.
“I must ask, though,” Plum continued, and Brandon shot her a glance. She pointedly ignored it. “The ball was over last night. What keeps you and Dame Obella here?”
“Personal business, Madam,” he replied, still maintaining that dancing grin. “The details are, unfortunately, not mine to share.”
“Ahhh, a mystery,” Plum purred, her smile glittering. “I do so love a mystery.”
Laszlo straightened and adjusted his shirt cuffs before reaching up towards the tree. He made a strange chirping noise, and from the tree a huge black bird descended and landed on Laszlo’s shoulder. The raven croaked at Brandon, and he had the unsettling feeling that the bird knew something it shouldn’t.
“Now then,” he began. “Shall we begin?”
Laszlo drew his wand and began tracing a sigil in the air, effortlessly and languidly. The afterimage was a deep blue, verging on green. He held his wand in fourth position—just as Brandon had guessed.
“What do you know of the blue?” he asked as he worked.
Brandon spoke first. “Blue mana comes from thought. Magicians of the blue are able to cast spells such as phantasmal illusions, and the two subschools are indigo and silver magic.”
“Very good, Prince-Adept,” Laszlo nodded. “The blue is the school of the mind.” He finished his sigil—the runes were perfect—and closed the circle. Brandon felt a strange buzz inside his head, as if a bee was rattling around in his skull, and the raven on Laszlo’s shoulder began to softly hum and glow the same blue as the runic afterimages—it must be Laszlo’s familiar, being tapped for mana. Adelaide was surprised: typically, blue and yellow magicians had talismans, not familiars.
A bluish-black smoke was conjured into existence, pouring from the tip of Laszlo’s wand and clouding out the sun. The smoke swirled around the three of them, rapidly filling the courtyard.
“This smoke is entirely illusory. Blue magic by itself cannot create anything solid or forceful, and most Magicians of the blue are content to end the story there.”
Laszlo held up four fingers. “There are four Laws of Magic. Please humour me for a moment and list them off, if you would. Law One!”
Brandon glanced hesitantly at Plum before answering. “‘Mana comes from three sources: red from life, yellow from energy, and blue from thought.’” The words came easy—Brandon had to study magic more intensely than anything to even come close to competing with Plum.
“Excellent, Prince-Adept!” When Brandon finished, Laszlo put down a finger, and a brief flash from his fingers spun and twirled the smoke. The smoke continually became more solid and opaque. “Law Two!”
“‘Magicians scribe spells that direct their mana on only what to create or destroy—we can not manipulate what is already there,’” Brandon continued while nodding his head. He was struck by the amount of mana that this spell must have taken.
“Law Three!”
Plum butted in. “Why are you asking us this, Sir Magician? Surely this rote recitation is beneath all three of us.”
“I am sure it is, Madam Plumeria,” he answered. “But please, bear with me. This will all make sense in time.”
“‘Spells are either white or black in character in addition to their primary color, but they are one color,’” Plum intoned, clearly more out of a sense of humouring the man than actual interest. More complexities of the spell were revealed with every passing second, and Brandon was again astounded at the skill required. Plum mostly just looked bored.
“Law Four,” Brandon continued. “‘The more commands a spell contains, the more complex it is to cast or counter, and the exponentially more mana it requires.’”
Laszlo began drawing another sigil as Brandon finished. The raven at his shoulder squawked and fluttered its wings as it began to glow with a soft yellowish light, confirming Brandon’s guess that it was Laszlo’s familiar. “Excellent! As I suspected, you two both are intimately familiar with all Four Laws of Magic. These four rules make up the entire foundation of modern magical study. Spells can be complex enough to level cities, if given enough time and mana draw. Each spell can only be one color, yes, but, if we can combine spells with those from other schools…”
As he closed the circle—perfect runes, once again—, the smoke suddenly felt much more solid. It was as if the garden had suddenly filled with real smoke, and Brandon found himself struggling to breathe. The smoke began to move and shift, and began coalescing into a rough outline in the smoke. “What could that color mixing allow us to do?”
Brandon opened his mouth to reply, but his response was cut off as something massive slammed into him from behind.
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