“He cannot know who I am. It will place both of us in danger.”
“I see. Then observe. We are working on learning to cast.”
Prin said, “I have not heard that term.”
“Casting? In short, it is throwing your spell a distance.”
“Such as?” Prin asked, confused.
As Maude moved to Brice’s side, she said, “He is new and has had little idea of his potential. We are working on casting a flame from his mind to the taper of the candle. Doing that prevents him from burning his finger, something you need to be aware of.”
Prin was acutely mindful of the fact that her left hand felt cold, the fingers more so, and still stung, as if she had been out on a cold winter’s night. Her arm ached, as she expected, but she tried to hide it. A bookcase filled with jars, pots, rocks and a dozen other items stood between Brice and Prin. She crouched behind it, watching Brice’s turned back as Maude woke him and she pretended nothing had happened. Prin removed a candle from its holder and followed the instructions Maude gave to Brice. The candle flared to life almost instantly, and she snuffed it nearly as fast. Brice’s did nothing.
While Maude worked with him, Prin decided to skip the lesson and went to Sara.
Sara looked up and whispered, “I had no idea she wore a disguise. How did you?”
“When I saw her age for her trip outside, I noticed that when she returned to her old self, it was not the same one we knew. There were small changes.”
“Like what?” Sara asked.
“She has four freckles on the left side of her nose. They make a rectangle, or they did. Now they are a triangle and one off to the side. Freckles don’t change, so I wondered what else she had changed.”
“It was a guess,” Sara asked.
“Well, I prefer you credit my inquisitive nature, but yes, it was.” Prin took the book from Sara and sounded out the heading. “Is this how to change hair color?”
“And how to grow it. I think this spell will grow hair on a log or rock.”
They exchanged nervous grins. Prin said, “The spell requires dried rosemary flakes. I saw a bottle of that over there,” she pointed.
“Rosemary? You read that whole word? Are you certain it was not Rose petals?” Sara winked. “Go get the Rosemary. And keep your eyes open for black mushroom spores.”
“It sounds like we’re making dinner.” She found the jar. “Here are the rosemary flakes. What else?”
They gathered all the ingredients but small brown snails and tannin. They placed them all together and waited while Maude tried to get Brice to light his candle. He was near tears, and she told him to take a mental break while coming over to the girls.
She looked at Prin, “Would you come stand beside Brice and gently, very gently, try to guide him to light the candle? Not with words, and don’t let him know, but use your mind to try and lead him?”
“I’ve never done anything like that.”
“Well, if it does not work, go ahead and cast a spark to the taper and pretend he did it. Much of what he needs to learn is confidence,” Maude said.
“Isn’t that lying? Cheating?”
“Not if it helps him. What do you think?” Maude said.
Prin said, “We don’t let him know.”
“No, of course, not. But, I think it may help you, too. We’ll talk after, and I’ll explain. Don’t just make the flame, concentrate on each step of the process.” Maude took her to Brice, who seemed embarrassed and weary.
He said, “So she’s going to wreck your mind too?”
Prin giggled. “I hope not.”
Maude tapped on the table with her fingernail, a quick, sharp sound to draw their attention. “Brice, concentrate on the tip of the taper and imagine sparking it to life like you’re starting a campfire with flint and steel. Close your eyes and peek only enough to keep your focus.”
But she was looking at Prin. Eyes closed, Prin reached out mentally as if she was going to start the fire and—felt nothing. Then, she felt the smallest of sparks flick into existence, but far too small to do anything. But the sparks were there, as she found several more as if Brice was striking steel to flint in his mind.
She seized on the origination and found that it was as if Brice was using a rock without flint, yet managed a few weak sparks. She watched the sparks fly past in her imagination, then used the same sort of mental twist she used to make the flame appear on her fingertip, taking the spark of energy and expanding it near the taper.
The candle flamed to life.
Brice had been watching it through narrowed eyelids, and he leaped back, as if afraid. “Did I do that?”
“Well, I didn’t,” Maude told the truth.
A drip of wax fell and burned his finger, but he didn’t let go of the candle. He focused on the fire and the tip of the candle, exploring and testing, his face twisted with effort. The fire went out.
Maude looked accusingly at Prin, who shook her head in denial.
Maude turned back to Brice. “Did you put it out?”
“Yes, so I can do it again.”
“But, you did it with your mind? You didn’t touch it or blow on it?”
Brice sat up straighter. “I just made it stop so I could try again.”
Maude said, trying to cover for the help Prin provided, “The first time may have been an accident. Don’t get frustrated if it takes a while. You’ll remember how to do it again, just maybe not today.”
As she finished speaking, the flame came to life again.
Prin shook her head again.
Maude said, “Okay, Brice. Now, make it go out.” The flame winked out and a tendril of smoke twisted into the air. “Now, light it.”
The candle burned. Prin gave him a slap on his shoulder. “My father was a great mage. He said some young mages that come to him for training never learn to control fire, the most essential element. Fire is the first tool men used to climb above all other animals.”
“They never learn?”
“That’s what he said,” Prin told him. “It took you one day.”
Maude said, “She’s right. And now, young man, you need to go lie down and take another long nap. I expect your mind feels like mush.”
“No, I’m too excited,” he said.
Maude threw Prin a smile and said, “Okay, then sit in that chair over there in the corner and take a short break.”
Prin turned to find a big, overstuffed chair she had never noticed in one corner. Brice went to it, and they waited until his soft snores filtered to them, which only took a few moments.
Maude said, “He is exhausted. I’m going to put this candle on that table in front of him, so when he wakes up, he can light it. I suspect he will want to try right away. Prin, I had hoped you could help, but never expected results like that.”
Sara said, “We’ve gathered all the ingredients for the hair spell but two. Are you too tired to help us with it?”
“I guess you two baldies want to grow some hair today, huh? What are you missing?”
“Brown snails and Tannin.”
Maude said, “Wrong. You must never generalize. The spell requires small brown snails. Do not think the one who documented that spell didn’t mean small when she said, small. While the spell may work with large snails, it might also grow fingernails on your head instead of hair.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Small brown snails that have been dried and ground are in an earthen jar on that shelf,” Maude pointed. “I gather them from gardens in early spring. Tannin is in a small pot right below. It should be well marked. I collect water from a bog and let the water evaporate. The dried remains are tannin-rich.”