“It’s a line, isn’t it?” said Will, outraged.
“Orientation is important,” said Arrogan. “Bruman is horizontal and parallel to your chest. Lun is horizontal and perpendicular to the chest of the caster.”
Maintaining his proud little line, Will walked around to one side of it. “There, now it’s bruman.”
His grandfather arched one brow and merely stared for several long seconds, then he burst into laughter. It was a minute or two before he could collect himself enough to speak. “Fine, we’ll count it, this time. From now on remember, it’s defined by the perspective of the caster at the time of creation—all spells are. Otherwise, without an accepted reference point, none of them would make sense.”
Will’s frustration had vanished, replaced by a feeling of relief and accomplishment. Without waiting to be told, he tried to repeat his feat and succeeded after only two attempts. This time his line was oriented properly. Smiling, he did it the way he had the first time. “There, bruman and lun, I’ve learned two in one day.”
“It gets much easier after the first one,” said Arrogan. “It’s just a matter of honing your skill at shaping, as well as memorizing the forms. The later runes are more complicated, but you’re over the worst hurdle.”
His mood was too good to think about what would come next. There was only one thing on Will’s mind now. “What are you making for supper?”
His mentor chuckled. “You’re spoiled! You think every time you accomplish something, I’ll do the cooking?”
Will nodded. “I bow before your mastery of the pan. Please have mercy on this supplicant and grace the table with your divine art.”
His grandfather’s face showed disgust. “You’re going to make me sick with that flowery crap.” When his grandson continued to beg, he finally threw up his hands. “Fine! I suppose you’ve earned a small reward. I can’t stand another day of your cooking anyway.”
He almost clapped at the announcement. The old man’s cooking was no joke. Over the past two years, he had learned that even with only simple ingredients, Arrogan could produce something surprising, and on occasion he would bring out fresh additions that Will still didn’t know the source of, such as butter, flour, or a variety of spices. He had stopped fretting over the mystery of their origin and now only hoped there would be some special additions.
They were headed into the house when a breathless voice called to them from the forest. “Will! It’s me, Sammy.”
Looking back, Will saw his younger cousin standing at the edge of the clearing, her cheeks red and her hair wild. She had obviously been running. “What’s wrong?” he asked, his heart speeding up.
She was bent over, hands on her knees as she panted, trying to get her wind back. “They took Eric…”
“What? Who?”
“The king’s men,” said Sammy at last. “A group came to Barrowden this morning. They rounded up all the men and older boys. Dad and Eric were both taken to join the army.”
“They took Uncle Johnathan too? How do they expect people to survive?” asked Will, aghast at the news.
“They gave Mom fifteen silvers, ten for Dad and five for Eric. Supposedly they’ll be able to send their pay home in a few months, but they could be gone for years!” she informed him.
That was quite a bit of money to Will, but he knew his uncle earned at least two or three times that in a year. He had a family to support, after all. Hopefully his aunt had money saved; otherwise they’d be living in poverty within a year. Remembering the gold crown he had given them for the cot, he hoped she still had it.
“Where are they now?” asked Will. “Maybe we can sneak them out.”
Arrogan spoke up behind him, “And do what? Hide them in the forest? Have your uncle become an outlaw? And that’s assuming you don’t get gutted by the king’s men.”
He looked at his grandfather hopefully. “You could do something.”
His mentor gave him a sour look. “I could, but I won’t. You still haven’t thought the consequences through. It would only make things worse for your cousins. You also haven’t considered the fact that the first thing they’ll do when they see you is truss you up and haul you back to join the king’s recruits.”
“I can’t just let them take him,” said Will stubbornly.
“Eric wanted to go,” announced Sammy. “Mother wasn’t happy about it, and Father certainly wasn’t either, but Eric was glad to go.”
“There, you see,” said the old man. “He’s happy to serve his country. It’s dangerous, true, but it could be worse.”
Will was still conflicted. Deep down, part of him wanted to join as well, although the idea also scared him. But the fact that they had been conscripted bothered him.
“Mom wanted me to tell you to stay here,” said Sammy. “Your mother said you were in Branscombe. As long as you don’t go home, everything will be fine. If you show up now, they’ll just take you.”
Showing a warmth and generosity that Will hadn’t known he possessed, his grandfather asked, “Have you had supper?”
Sammy shook her head. “In all the excitement and confusion, Momma hasn’t had a chance to cook.”
“I was about to make a Darrowan red stew,” said Arrogan. “You can eat with us and take some home to your mother and younger brother.”
Not having heard of that dish before, Will couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like. “What’s in it?”
“Beef, red wine, carrots—you’ll see,” said his grandfather. “It’s a dish fit for a king.”
Beef? Wine? Where did he get beef? Will shook his head. He knew better than to ask. The old man had steadfastly refused to give up his secrets in the past.
“Give me a hand, Will,” added his grandfather. “We don’t have meat often. This is an opportunity for you to learn the art of braising.”
Chapter 24
The following week was annoyingly mundane. Despite the excitement and consternation created by Sammy’s news, Will’s life remained the same. Worse, there was no hope of relief from his routine; his grandfather had expressly forbidden him from visiting the village or his mother for fear he might be picked up by a press gang.
Fortunately, his training wasn’t as frustrating as before. Having managed his first two runes, Will found that ones that followed were more complex, but he was able to produce them each within a day or two now that he could express his power with a modicum of control. His grandfather still found things to complain about, though.
“Damn it, pick a scale and stick with it!” swore the old man.
Confused, Will just stared at him. “Scale?”
“A size, lackwit,” snapped his teacher. “You can make them bigger or smaller, but they all have to match, otherwise you won’t be able to reproduce a written spell—nothing will fit together.”
“Oh!” said Will, understanding at last. “You mean relative size, like a ratio.”
“Exactly, oh lord of the obvious,” agreed the cantankerous old man. “If your bruman rune is roughly an inch in length, then all the others have to follow suit. It’s best to practice with them all at a certain size. Later, when you try adjusting them, it will be easier to scale them.”