Mistress of Magic: Morgan's First Apprentice - Chapter 4 - Food for Thought

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“Slow down, little one, you’re eating like a starved Basilisk!” Morgan teased as I gorged on roasted fish, chicken, cheeses, fresh fruit and fragrant bread with herbs. Lunch with Morgan was nothing the like quiet chewing in the dining hall of the college, with the simple food and watered-down fruit juice.

After we ate, we casually chatted about my time at the college, my favorite subjects and the nature of magic itself. It felt intimate, this conversation. Special. I could not imagine explaining magic to someone who was not born with the Second Gift. It must be like explaining music to someone born deaf. It was like another voice we had. Another sense, and ability to create.

The language of magic, in which the spell books were written, was in many ways like musical notes. Different components of a spell combined to create magic in endless variety, challenged only by the strength and quantity of the power applied, as well as the Lady’s familiarity with the spell.

We debated quantification and measurement of power, one of the oldest arguments in the Sisterhood. Traditionally, magic was calculated as the load of weight a Lady could lift with her magical powers before she was drained and unable to continue. The depth of one's potential reserves varied from Lady to Lady. Through training, volume and capacity could be grown and Ladies of vast reserve depth were usually Mistresses of the highest orders.

Since knowledge of the spells, focus and force of will were factors in magic casting, it seemed to me like this was an oddly arbitrary standard of measurement. Surely, a well-trained Mistress could use less power to lift more weight, but that didn't mean her reserves were deeper than those of a particularly well-bred initiate.

Morgan argued that since the world is a place of compromise, at times, such arbitrary decisions are made. And they stick with us. With no better scale of measurement, the traditional power-per-block-per-minute seemed better than no standard at all.

"It is the nature of people to try and quantify everything,” Morgan said. “We like to put a number on things so we can measure and compare them." Morgan sipped from her fruit wine cup as we lounged on opposing couches, digesting.

"For example, If I were to quantify the volume of power I drew from Draken earlier as the amount of power it would take me to travel to the kingdom’s capital, how much information would that give you?” She did not wait for a reply. “Not much. And my reserves are deeper than that." Morgan placed her cup on one of the food trays on the low table between the couches.

I suddenly realized it had been quite a while since we left Draken in the bedroom and came downstairs to a table full of food and drink. I didn't know if the trays appeared there by magic or if Morgan had summoned another Knight using her thoughts to bring the lunch in, but Draken was nowhere to be seen. I didn't hear him leave either. I glanced up the stairs and Morgan chuckled.

"Oh, don't worry about Draken," she said waving her hand in the air. "He's probably washing up in the baths of the Knights’ rooms. The room you’re sleeping in is the only one in this suite without an additional door leading to the Knights' quarters." I glanced around somewhat uncomfortably. Could they be watching us? Listening in? Would they dare?

"So how would my measurement be of any comparison to what another Lady Mage can do or how much power she can absorb and store?” Morgan returned to our topic of discussion. “A set scale allows me to put a number on my ability to perform magic, though it only measures my capability in a simple application of will and focus – floating a block off the floor."

"How deep are your reserves, if I may inquire?" Perhaps it was the fruit wine, but I felt daring. Asking a Mistress about her capacity was like asking for her age.

Morgan laughed, unoffended. I smiled with relief.

“Oh, little one, I like your courage,” she admitted. “But there’s a hard, long path ahead of you.” Her eyes widened and she drew in a quick little breath, as though shocked at something she had said. A darkness descended on her features and I felt a chill of fear, though not of her. As quickly as it had come, it disappeared and she seemed to shake herself as if from some reverie.

“We’ve been cooped up here all morning.” Her voice was bright again as she changed the subject. “It’s a beautiful day outside. How about we dress for the weather and go for a walk in the gardens?”

"Should I pick myself something from the closet or do you have an outfit in mind?" I was grateful for the distraction from whatever that moment had been.

"Oh, I have the perfect dress on my mind. Get up," she ordered with an excited smile.

I rose from the couch, just ase Morgan's magic swirled around me, tickling a little, transforming my green velvet dress, which grew a collar, gems, and golden decorations. My shoes altered to match and I started with surprise when I felt my hair suddenly swept up and seeming to weave upon my head! Glancing into a wall mirror I saw nowan intricate bun decorated with golden leaves. I looked down at myself, and when I looked back at Morgan, her blue robe had turned into something just as marvelous, with high cuts that revealed her legs and a corset to emphasize her shape. I’d never encountered that spell before, but made a mental note to ask Morgan to repeat it slowly so I could write it down in my spell book.

"You'll be able to do this yourself quite soon," she said, as though reading my mind, and flung the doors open with a wave of her hand. I was familiar with the spell, and I sensed her apply it. She did it with such majestic ease, I felt a pang of jealousy. Soon enough. Soon I will know as many spells as Morgan, and cast them as naturally as I walk and talk.

Two Knights were waiting for Morgan and me in the corridor. Draken and another young man in his twenties with dark shoulder-length hair and a collar like Draken’s. His eyes were a deep brown, his lips thick and almost feminine, and there was a unique kindness I could see in his soft gaze.

I noticed the Knights’ armor had Morgan's initials carved onto the front of the chest-piece. The Knights belonged to her, in a sense, but unlike slaves, they did so happily and with endless devotion. Judging from the living conditions and their faces when they looked at their Mistress, they were more than happy with the hand life had dealt them. Being the personal Knights of a beautiful Mistress was probably the best life a young man of good breeding could wish for himself.

"This is Mason.” Morgan introduced us. “And you’ve already met Draken," she added playfully. I nodded, trying not to blush when I looked at Draken and remembered his naked form writhing under Morgan’s, surrounded by the light of magic. I lowered my eyes, but could sense Morgan watching me as I tried to slow my breathing. She enjoyed watching my awkwardness.

Morgan took my arm and led me down the corridor of the residential wing of the palace. The two Knights followed silently, two steps behind as we headed toward the garden at the center of the spacious palace.

"Am I allowed to ask how many Knights you have?" I inquired, breaking the silence of our walk. The number of personal Knights each Lady owned at any given time depended on her desire, number of apprentices, and position in the Sisterhood.

“Of course,” Morgan answered. “I have five personal Knights. You've met lovely Draken and Mason.” She waved her hand in their direction behind us. “There are also Gerad, Leam and Neal whom you will meet when we arrive at my family’s tower in Ironfall. Some I’ve chosen, and some are given to me. But no one can force you to accept a Knight you do not desire. And if those you have are not enough, there are always the un-owned Knights of the Sisterhood. With enough influence in The Order, you can adopt one of them, if you wish for an older and more experienced partner."

I knew all this, but hearing it from the lips of someone other than the Lady Mothers at the Apprentices’ College made it real, not just a fantasy to fall asleep to.

The halls of the Mistresses’ Palace weren't as empty as they were when I arrived in the morning. Mistresses, Initiates, and Knights milled about. Many of them greeted Morgan with a nod or a bow.

I knew the House of Ironfall was one of the largest and strongest in the Sisterhood, though not what Morgan’s role in it was. Still, I felt privileged, any Mistress of such a powerful house was highborn. A mousy farm-girl like me at the side of a noble Mistress? The girls back at the college would soil themselves if they knew.

Many of the Ladies who passed us were visibly pregnant. Pregnancy was the most vulnerable time of a Lady’s life – the only time she could not cast spells or draw power from a man. So it was no wonder that Mistresses and Ladies of nobility would prefer to spend that time here, at the Citadel, safe and pampered in spacious suites, like Morgan’s.

I could hear music in the distance as we neared the garden, but I couldn't quite see where the beautiful, mesmerizing melody was coming from. 

"Do you have any apprentices?" I asked as we entered the sun-filled garden in the center of the palace. The air was cool, but the golden color of the tree leaves gave a warm feeling to the place. As we made our way down one of the paths of the garden, Morgan answered.

"No, I do not.  .  I have recommended Initiates for the role of Mistress, if that's what you're wondering, but I have yet to come across one I would want as my own. I am picky like that."

I swallowed hard and focused on trying not to step on the edges of my dress. Was I here for her to test me so she could recommend me for apprenticeship, or was she testing me to be an apprentice of her own? I couldn’t bear this feeling there was something happening around me--to me--that was hidden for some reason. Morgan’s strident voice broke my reverie.

"Being a Mistress should be the goal of any initiate. We are what Mage Ladies are meant to be. We do not spend our days raising little girls, scribbling in books, or doing practical magic like building roads or mending wounds." Morgan sounded almost disgusted with the roles of other Ladies in the Sisterhood. "We are not forced to wed a remotely related stranger. Ours is a life of freedom. As much freedom as a sister can have from her family."

Was this a recruitment speech?.

Morgan sat down on a bench facing a patch of grass, and I sat down beside her. Draken and Mason took their posts just out of earshot.

"Do you want to be a Mistress?" Morgan asked the question I dreaded.

"I am not sure." It was true. "I've always wanted to study magic. To practice it with the aim of advancing our knowledge and understanding of its potential."

"A noble cause, but how can one study without testing one's limits? Without facing challenges and pushing the capabilities of power in ways that are simply not possible in an isolated tower of scholars?"

Yes, this was definitely a recruitment speech. My trepidation soared as I recalled the shiver of fear that had invaded me earlier. Somehow, this seems preordained, fated, like…

Like I had no choice.

"We are the embodiment of the ideal and guardians of the Sisterhood," Morgan was continuing. "We are the fiercest magical warriors, the most effective spies and a force feared by every mortal man and woman. We are the keepers of the balance of the land. Without us, there would be chaos."

"I don't think I'd make a very good warrior." In fact, since I had learned in college that the self-proclaimed Free Witches were not a fairy tale, I’d developed a healthy cowardice. My childish risk-taking had given way before the knowledge of a resistance to the Sisterhood that practiced magic and aimed to destabilize the kingdom. Some, practicers of the old ways of shamanic rituals to worship the Goddesses, were merciless toward Ladies they captured who refused to join their tribes.

"You don't know yet,” Morgan said almost mockingly, but then her voice softened. “Your journey is only beginning, little one."

I tried to disguise my growing concern. Was my fate already decided? Why me? What was so special about me that I should be tested by a Mistress of the House of Ironfall, and why did I sense she was hiding something from me? Something that might change my life forever if only I knew what it was? 

I dared not ask.

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My deepest apologies for the insane delay in the publishing of this chapter and for making you wait. On the bright side - the next one is in less than a week from now!

My endless gratitude to the wonderful ladies (and gents) at @isleofwrite (and an extra THANK YOU to @jrhughes , my shoulder to whine on) for reviewing, editing and holding my shaky hand.