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THE SILVER MAGE NODDED a hello as Ariana passed her in the Wheel’s outer corridor, and Ariana hesitated. She crossed her arms, hugging herself. “Do you have a minute? Can I speak with you?”
“Absolutely.” Mage Parma went ahead and held open her silver door. “Come in. How is your practice coming along?”
“Pretty well.” Ariana picked up a paper packet on the floor and went to the nearest open chair. “It’s as hard as learning it all the first time, but at least it’s going more quickly.”
“That’s good to hear.” Mage Parma locked her office door and then came to sit across from her. “What’s wrong?”
Ariana handed her the packet. “This had been slipped under the door. It’s from Flamen Mennti, so one of the Gehrn, I suppose?”
Mage Parma took the sealed paper and, without looking, spun it with lazy precision into the little fire burning in the hearth. “Now, what’s wrong?”
Ariana looked after the burning letter in surprise.
“Ariana?”
She bit her lip. “This may sound ridiculous.”
“The door is locked, and I’ll try not to laugh.”
Ariana couldn’t summon a smile for the jest. “Do you... do you believe in dreams?”
Mage Parma raised an eyebrow. “In what way? I’ve had dreams myself, if that’s what you mean, so I think they exist. Or do you mean hopes and dreams?”
“Mantic dreams,” Ariana blurted. “Do you think dreams can tell the future?”
Elysia Parma did not laugh. She pursed her lips and frowned thoughtfully. “What’s this about?”
Ariana took a breath. “I had a dream, and—it was terrifying. Horrifying. I woke—I was ill, I was so afraid. And I want to know... I want to know if it could be real.”
“Do you want to tell me about it?”
“No.” Ariana regretted the blunt answer. “That is...”
Mage Parma shook her head. “We don’t have to discuss it yet, if you’re uncomfortable. Let’s speak generally, first.”
There was a knock at the door, and with an apologetic glance she rose to answer it. “Hello,” she said, opening the door only a few inches so that Ariana and the visitor could not see one another. “I’m terribly sorry, but something urgent has come up, and now isn’t a good time. Could we meet later tonight? Over supper, perhaps? Yes, the Hawking Babe will do. Bring your notes. Thank you.”
She returned to Ariana and folded her hands on the table. “It’s my belief that most of our dreams are just that, dreams. But that doesn’t mean they don’t hold meaning, or that we cannot learn from them. What I am about to say may sound patronizing, but I mean it sincerely: you have been through a great deal of late, Ariana, and there is much on your mind. What worries you will influence your dream, and the weight of your waking concern will make the dream more substantial. Then when you recall the dream, the terror of it will lend your concern additional import. Each experience fuels the other in a kind of perpetual impetus.” She held up a hand. “Now, understand I absolutely do not mean to belittle either dream or emotion, but let us work through it as a dream, first.”
Ariana hesitated and then nodded. “Every time I think of it, I feel ill again.”
“Did you dream of the Ryuven?”
Ariana nodded.
Mage Parma’s expression softened. “Did you go back?”
Ariana shook her head. “No, it wasn’t about that. It was... about the war.”
“Which has of course been on your mind,” Parma granted gently. “And did you dream of an unfavorable outcome? Or something happening in connection to the battle?”
Ariana nodded mutely.
“There’s no surprise you would dream of something so serious. All our thoughts are bent on this issue.” Parma folded her hands. “So the question of your dream was likely this: what can you do to influence the conflict with the Ryuven?”
Ariana felt foolish. “Well, of course. That’s all we’ve been working on.”
“And your dream seemed greater than that? But is it possible you were just thinking of this worry in a different way?”
Ariana rested her chin in her hands. “I want to see this war ended. And I feel there has to be something other than the fighting we’ve tried for so long. There’s something we’re missing...”
“So like your father.” Mage Parma sighed, but without exasperation. “My duty is to defend against the Ryuven. I have not put the effort into exploring other solutions because my efforts are bent on defense.’
“Like the shield.”
“Like the shield, and others. But if you wish to explore other avenues than fighting, then don’t think of it as a war. Look from a different angle entirely, like your dream.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, let’s work through this systematically. A loose map of sorts can be useful for choosing an oblique approach. What is the first of the five material sciences?”
“Botany, zoology, chemistry, physical philosophy—”
“One at a time will do. Let’s start with botany. What do you know of things botanical in this concern? Anything at all.”
Ariana considered. Failing crops had started the raids and had prompted Tamaryl to abandon his conviction to the shield. “The Ryuven are starving. Better harvests might reduce or end the raids. But I have no way of guessing what plagues their crops, nor even what plants they grow.”
“Still, it’s something less often discussed than open battle. Let’s continue with this line of thought.”
Ariana was accustomed to this style of guided discussion from her apprenticeship with her father. “The Ryuven cannot buy from human growers without some sort of common currency.” But she had already wracked her brain for a potential trading commodity. If only she knew what plants the Ryuven used...
She thought of the bag of medicine Maru had sent with her. “I have a tiny sampling of Ryuven flora. What could that tell us?”
Parma’s eyebrows rose. “I think that’s more than we’ve had to study in the last hundred years,” she answered readily. “It cannot hurt to examine it, and ask for help if you need it.”
Perhaps Mage Parma was only giving her makework to distract her. “You think looking at their medicinal herbs will help me understand what’s blighting their food crops?”
“Only if the herbs also suffer blight. It’s hard to say what you might find. But it would be foolish not to examine what you have. And if it reveals nothing, there’s zoology and chemistry to consider next.” Parma rose and went to the array of crystals near the door, reaching to the one labeled White Mage. Instead of tapping it, however, she held her fingertips against it. “Ewan, are you there?”
Ariana stared. A moment later her father’s voice returned, flattened but recognizable. “Yes?”
“Who is the best arcane botanist you know?”
“Callahan, of course.”
“I thought so, too. Thanks.” Parma released the crystal and met Ariana’s eyes. “There you go.”
Ariana ignored her words and pointed to the crystals. “I didn’t know that was possible!”
The Silver Mage glanced back at the plaque. “No? To be fair, it’s a scant handful who can do it. It’s hardly a practical communication tool, limited to so few. But it’s useful among ourselves.”
“How? How does it work?”
Parma smiled. “Now really, you should be able to work that out for yourself. The concept is not nearly so difficult as the execution.”
Someone knocked at the door. Ariana rose. “I’m sorry to take your time. Thank you for listening and for your suggestion. It probably was just my worry, after all.”
Parma nodded. “I’m glad to talk, Ariana. If you need anything, anything else, come see me.”
Ariana nodded and excused herself.