Now a great many things she had read in other books began to make sense—including the Ordeals. All of them were designed to ensure that the prospective Master could control his Elementals under any and all circumstances, so that even when the Master lay unconscious or near death, the Elementals would not revolt and break the coercions and restrictions binding them.
Here the young Jason had noted something very interesting. 'It would be better to make friends of the Salamanders than to force them,' he had written in his unchildlike hand. 'This is how my Master conducts himself these days although he learned by the Old School; I believe his only friends are Salamanders, actually.'
She smiled wryly at that. Like Master, like Apprentice. I do believe that Jason's only friends are Salamanders.
What would happen if an Elemental did revolt? She turned a page, and found that young Jason had asked the same question. 'Dreadful things happen until the Elemental's anger is spent. If an Undine turns against her Master, rivers rise, springs appear where they are not wanted, waters burst dams unexpectedly. If a Sylph, terrible storms, esp tornadoes. If a Gnome, earthquakes, sinkholes, and cave-ins, and if a Salamander, fires everywhere that rage quite out of control, and sometimes volcanoes. My Master says that the Great Fire of London was because of angry Salamanders breaking free from an unkind Master. This is why he says it is better to make friends, tho it takes longer.'
She shivered. Was this the answer to the fabled destruction of Atlantis? Was this why Pompeii was buried? What of the Johnstown Flood, the eruption of Mount Pelee only three years ago that destroyed two cities, or that mysterious earthquake that changed the course of the Mississippi some fifty years ago? Could a Salamander have caused the Chicago Fire her father had talked about so much?
Then she chided herself for seeing a supernatural cause behind every one of the world's woes. Oh, surely some disasters are purely human or natural in origin. I shall be suspecting a renegade Elemental behind everything, if I am not careful! And what Elemental could have caused the Irish Famine, pray—a Potato Elemental?
Still, it was fascinating to think that there were some otherwise inexplicable disasters that had causes. Now the ancient Greek habit of propitiating Nature Spirits whenever building or changing something began to sound like a sound and reasonable idea!
She continued to delve into the book, as the afternoon slipped away, lost to the world around her and to any thoughts other than those of Magick.
Cameron was as nervous as any boy alone with a female for the first time. He had ordered the Salamanders to clear off the couch in his study and place the best lamp in the house on the table beside it. There was a carafe of fresh water and a glass on the table, and a pile of books awaited Rose's perusal. She had appeared promptly when he called up for her, but she had not dressed as she usually did when reading—that is, casually. She'd donned a soft cashmere suit in a warm brown shade, and was as carefully and properly groomed as any prim female secretary. Although she did not seem ill-at-ease, she was not lounging on the couch as was her wont when reading in her room.
0f course she is not! She is not in her room, thinking she is unobserved. This is her public face, and she is not likely to show me her private aspect.
But he could not help thinking that she was so stiff because she was afraid of him—that despite her brave words, she could not help looking at him and thinking of him as a monster. How could she simply accept him? It was impossible, of course. It would take someone with more experience in Magick than she to accept something like him with equanimity.
"You're certain that you're quite comfortable?" he asked nervously.
"Absolutely," she replied, and raised one eyebrow. "Why do you keep asking?"
He was not about to tell her that it was because he had watched her in his mirror and knew that her posture was not one of ease and comfort! If she ever deduced that, he hoped she would be ladylike enough to pretend that she hadn't.
"I suppose it is because I expect you to be uncomfortable," he said, finally. "This situation you are in is—not a natural one. It is—"
"No stranger than reading to a disembodied voice through a speaking-tube, Jason," she replied firmly. "Now, I take it that we are not going to attempt anything more strenuous than reading tonight? Otherwise I assume you would have said something when you called me here."
"Probably not for the next fortnight, at least," he told her, rubbing the side of his head, where a dull and distant headache still resided. Along with the headache, he nursed a sense of self-righteousness. He had been very good about taking that damned tea of Pao's, and it did seem to him that he felt much more alert, but he missed some of the effects of his pain-killers already. He only hoped the headache would get better and not worse with time—or else he was going back to what he knew worked. "Conditions won't be quite right for at least that long. Did you find my journal?"
She smiled at that; as always, the expression quite transformed her face, perhaps because she smiled so seldom. "Yes, I did, but I hesitated to say anything about it for fear that it had been your pet Salamander who had decided that I should have it, and not you." Her smile turned wry. "I did not want to have you annoyed at your pet when you are most likely to be irritable."
Damn. I didn't think that irritation showed. Or—maybe she's just guessing. I would certainly have cause to feel irritable after last night. He glanced at his "pet Salamander," who only spun a little in the Elemental's version of a quiet chuckle. "He is quite capable of doing just that, I suspect, but no, it was my idea. Do let me know when you feel you understand everything in that book completely, and I will get the next volume out of storage." I do not think I will respond to that remark about being irritable. Unfortunately, it is too damnably accurate at the moment. He clumsily opened his special book to the next blank page, and sighed. "The one thing my disaster of yesterday did was to suggest another train of investigation, so if you are ready, perhaps you could begin with the book on the couch beside you. Read the whole thing, if you please."
Taking that as the unsubtle hint it was meant to be, she picked up the volume and began to read aloud, as usual. And, as usual, he watched and listened, directing the Salamander to make notes occasionally. She was just a trifle distracted by this at first, but got used to it sooner than he would have expected.
So did he, for that matter. She sat in a pool of bright light in the otherwise darkened study. He sat off to one side, behind his desk with a dimmer light upon it, the Salamander hovering at his right, and the huge book of notes propped up before him, effectively screening most of his face from her. By degrees, she began to relax, and began to demonstrate the fact; first by resting her head on her hand as she read, then at last by tucking her legs up beneath her in the pose he thought she found most easy. It was a pity she felt she had to truss herself up in that infernal suit and corsets, but at least she hadn't bound herself up too tightly to breathe.
Once she relaxed, so did he. It was much easier on both of them for her to read in his study this way; he no longer had to strain to hear her clearly through the tube, and she did not have to read in a volume that strained her voice. She came to the end of the thin book and looked up in surprise as she realized where she was.
"Oh, excuse me—" she began, and dropped her feet back to the floor with a blush.