I had done something right. Now the sorcerer would have to take me seriously.
The mermaids slipped into the water, going on about their business, and the turquoise-haired mermaid swam over to me, handing me a couple of bright-yellow scales from her own tail. I took them with the reverence they deserved. Mermaid scales were among the rarest of ingredients for magic working.
“We really liked your story. If you want to come back and tell us more, we’ll let some of the others know. You could get a lot of scales and tears,” she said.
“Thank you,” I said, but the mermaid was already sinking beneath the waves, back to her underwater home.
It was a long walk back to the castle, up the steep and winding path along the cliffs that overlooked the bay. I turned to search over the water for the ships the mermaids had spoken of, but I saw nothing but evening mist. Perhaps they were confused? Still, it would bear mentioning to someone in the defense ministry after I got back.
I took my time, and when I finally got to the top I was breathing heavily, and my stomach grumbled. I’d missed lunch, and the eventide bells were already ringing, meaning that I’d missed dinner as well.
Still, there was work to be done. So I pushed my hunger and disappointment aside and headed straight for the sorcerer’s tower.
The castle had once belonged to the monarchy, but when it had been overthrown the Council of Ministers decided to expand the original castle grounds into a sprawling complex of apartments and offices that merged nearly seamlessly with the nearby town. The sorcerer’s apartments were in the old, original portion of the castle, and I had to wind through the more modern white-stone hallways in order to reach the staircase that would lead to the sorcerer’s spell room.
I deftly navigated the various wards, nearly singeing my curly hair when I miscalculated the length of a fire ward, but eventually I was at the door to the sorcerer’s potion shop. I pushed it open like I had a thousand times before, only this time I was met with the door slamming rudely in my face.
“Who is it?” an irate, masculine voice demanded.
“It’s Melie. I have the mermaid tears,” I said with some irritation, rubbing my nose. I recognized that voice, and knew nothing good could come of this interaction.
There was a scrabbling on the other side before the door opened a small crack. A single blue eye peered out at me. Ernst, the sorcerer’s favorite apprentice.
“Hand it here, and I’ll give it to Hansen when he gets back.”
I snorted and put my hands on my hips. The tears and the scales were tucked away in my satchel, and there was no way I was going to give either of them to Ernst so that he could take credit for my hard work. I’d made that mistake too many times before.
“What is taking you so long finding that foxglove?” came the bellow from the other side of the door. Ernst looked back, and I took that opportunity to lean into the door, unsettling Ernst and making my way through. He fell back with an oof and I strode inside, head held high. On my way to the back of the potion shop I snatched a jar of foxglove off the shelf and upset a jar of singing bees, all without pausing in my route.
The sounds of breaking glass and Ernst’s yelps of dismay from behind me were a dark source of pleasure. I even let myself smile.
At the back of the potion shop a cauldron bubbled over a banked fire, and Hansen murmured to himself in annoyance. The first time I had met the sorcerer I’d been surprised at his age: he couldn’t have been more than twenty-five summers. He had a shock of yellow hair and skin like unbaked pastry, a hallmark of his people. He’d come to Klydonia to learn the craft of sorcery from the previous master, and had taken over the position when the last sorcerer died.
There were voices within the court that didn’t like having a foreigner, especially one so ready to bring on his own countrymen as apprentices, in such a high position of authority. But those voices were usually silenced. Not because he was any sort of well-loved personality, but because his critics always ran afoul of some sort of mischief. A wiser council would’ve considered that perhaps there was some intent behind Councilmember Guth being attacked by a basilisk right after accusing the High Sorcerer of murder, but the rest of the council were so enamored of the man that it never came up again. Once they’d managed to move the stone that had been Councilmember Guth into a courtyard, that is.
I didn’t much care about court politics. I just hoped that at some point I would be able to stop fetching ingredients and do some actual spellwork. I didn’t even like Hansen all that much, and I sincerely doubted he had translated some of his texts correctly, but without his approval there were several very powerful texts that were off-limits to me.
Mostly, I didn’t understand why Hansen was so against teaching me the sorcerous arts. I could feel the possibilities simmering in my veins whenever I read a passage aloud, despite what Hansen had told me on several occasions: that my power was so low I’d never be much more than a hedge witch. There was nothing wrong with being a hedge witch, but I knew I wasn’t one. I could feel the potential inside me. I just needed a way to direct it.
Where I came from, we didn’t much believe in only certain people having magic. My village elders all had some measure of ability, learned through practice and study. It wasn’t until Hansen came to our land that people began to speak of some folks being better than others, and it was one more curious thing that made me suspicious of the High Sorcerer.
I still really, really wanted him to teach me magic, though.
Hansen glanced up at my arrival. He stood over a mortar and pestle, grinding a basilisk tail into dust. “Molly. Where is Ernst?”
“It’s Melie, still, and Ernst is cleaning up a jar he knocked over. Here is your foxglove,” I said, just as Ernst ran up, huffing and humming some tune under his breath. There were several red welts on his face, and I grinned at him while he glared back in response. I’d been the one to gather those bees in the first place, so it was only just that they’d provided some measure of usefulness now.
Hansen took the foxglove without looking at me. “I see you’ve also brought me my mermaid tears? Yes, yes, hand it over,” he said, cutting me off when I opened my mouth to tell him about my day.
I gave the sorcerer the mermaid tears but decided to keep the scales for myself as a memento. I had to have something for my troubles.
Hansen went back to muttering over his potion, and after a few seconds looked over at me as though surprised to see that I was still there.
“Oh, you are dismissed now.”
“Oh,” I said, my face heating at the abrupt dismissal. “I thought I might watch.”
“Absolutely not. Observation is only for apprentices who have undergone elementary spellcasting and demonstrated some talent.”
“But you told me I couldn’t take elementary spellcasting until I was potion adept,” I said, sinking once more into the trap of frustration. For an entire season I’d been trying to get some sort of training, any training, and every time I got even a little close I was given yet another reason why I wasn’t ready. But I came to the high court precisely because I was ready. I’d reached the limits of the teachings of the local witch back home, and the sorcerer of the north had told me that with all of my power I needed a stronger teacher.