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Guylian nodded, privately hoping that Macati got better more quickly than that estimate. He probably
wouldn't last long without screwing something up with one of the villagers or around the house without
Macati's guidance.
"Damn," Keira muttered. "I really wanted to have those cold boxes in place before we got the shipment
for the summer festival."
"I can do them," Guylian offered shyly, shifting uncomfortably as Keira's sharp eyes focused on him. "If
you don't mind that it's not Macati."
Keira snorted. "Have you even cast a spell yet? Tlory's not much for magic and he was Macati's apprentice
for longer than you've been."
"I studied before," Guylian said, flushing a little. "And I did the box at Fenral's."
Keira stared at him measuringly for a long moment. "All right. But you can tell Macati that he's only
getting paid ten silver for this."
Guylian hesitated. He had no idea how much Macati was supposed to be getting paid for this in the first
place.
"He can barter the price later if he wants," Keira said, standing up and impatiently pushing a few loose
strands of hair out of her face. "Come on, I'll show you where in the kitchen the first one is going."
Guylian nodded, allowing her to lead him back down the stairs. The main room of the tavern was empty,
but the kitchen was busy and bustling. There were three people in the room: two skinny girls elbow deep
in dish water and an older woman with gray-streaked brown hair and a moustache that nearly put Werin's
to shame.
"The first one needs to go here," Keira said, leading him across the room to a wide cabinet set next to the
sink. It was empty and clean, not very large, but spacious for the tiny size of the kitchen.
"Will that be any problem?" Keira asked, as though she expected him to back out of it now.
"It's fine," Guylian said quietly. He wouldn't even have to modify the spell he'd used at Fenral's.
"Get to it then," Keira ordered. "I'll show you the second one when you're done."
Guylian nodded, doing his best to ignore the curious stares of the dishwashers as he knelt in front of the
cabinet. He took special care drawing the spell circle on the inside of the cabinet, twisting awkwardly to
reach the side panel properly.
That done, he spoke the cooling spell, taking his time and hoping briefly that Macati wouldn't be upset that
he hadn't just told Keira to wait. The spell completed with a wash of cool air, and Guylian waited a
moment to make sure it held before climbing to his feet and shutting the cabinet door.
Turning around, he blushed to realize that Keira and her kitchen staff were all watching him. Keira cracked
a reluctant smile, but all she said was, "the second one is out back."
She shooed her workers back to their tasks and led Guylian outside. Guylian went willingly, not at all
unhappy to get away from the scrutiny.
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"Macati's not your first teacher?" Keira asked, taking the back steps quickly. She didn't go far, stopping a
few feet away from the stairs.
"No," Guylian admitted, wondering why people were asking him so many questions today. First Carill,
then Tlory, and now Keira.
"All right then," Keira said, gesturing to the empty space in front of her. "If you can handle this spell, I'll
pay the full price, no haggling. We need a cold box out here, about this big—" Keira paused, sketching out
dimensions in the air for him. "It has to be strong enough to keep out scavengers. It also needs to lock, to
keep out thieves. Can you do that?"
Guylian nodded. "Just—" he stepped closer to where she stood, frowning. "—this high?"
"Maybe a little taller," Keira said, looking pleased.
"Okay," Guylian said, absently working out the dimensions in his head. Making the box metal would be
easiest—a basic shape conjuring spell with a metal base. That would be sturdy enough to withstand
scavengers and thieves.
Kneeling in front of the space where the cold box would go, Guylian frowned thoughtfully. He could put
the spell circle in the ground, but it would be more effective to do the spell without it.
So, metal base, with the on-going cold spell and the permanent box conjuring spell, as well as a lock spell
that Keira—or anyone, really—could open and close. Straightening, Guylian hesitated when he realized
Keira was still standing nearby, watching him steadily.
Flushing, Guylian ducked his head a little. "Um, this is going to take a while," he said, offering a hesitant
smile. "If you want to—you can go do something else?"
"And if I want to watch?" Keira asked, her lips quirking in an amused smile.
"You can," Guylian said, a little startled. Why would she want to, though?
"How long?" Keira asked thoughtfully. She cast a glance back towards the tavern.
"Maybe half an hour?" Guylian guessed. "Maybe an hour."
Keira snorted and Guylian just stared at her, confused. "Fine. Come get me when you're done."
Guylian nodded, relaxing a little as she turned back to the tavern and walked away. Waiting until the door
shut behind her, Guylian turned back to the patch of earth where the new cold box was going to be.
Swallowing a sudden bout of nerves, Guylian sat down. He took a moment to plot out the order to cast
the spells, and then he began the first spell.
He wasn't sure how long he cast, just that his mouth and throat were dry when he finished. The cold box
sat before him, slightly taller than he'd meant it to be. Climbing to his feet, Guylian winced as his legs
protested the move, stiff from sitting for so long. He ignored it though, stumbling over to the cold box.
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He paused, then smiled sheepishly when he realized he'd forgotten a handle for the door. That spell was
simple—a quick modification of the base conjuring spell that had created the box—and then Guylian tried
the door.
It didn't budge, which was good. He tapped out the simple unlock pattern—two taps, then three—and
then tried the door again. It opened, expelling a burst of cool air. There were three shelves inside, equally
spaced, and the interior showed no signs of getting warmer.
"You really know your stuff, don't you?" Tlory spoke up from behind him. Guylian jumped, startled. He
whirled around, biting back a stammered exclamation.
Tlory was sitting on the back steps, looking completely comfortable as he watched Guylian. His face was
expressionless and Guylian stared, wondering how long Tlory had been there.
"The spell at Fenral's was totally by rote," Tlory continued, his voice completely flat. "But that—" Tlory
gestured towards the cold box. "That was improvised."
Guylian flushed, not really sure what to say to that. Was Tlory complimenting him? Or was he upset that
he couldn't do magic like that?
"Macati didn't teach you that," Tlory said after a moment, a familiar smirk curving his lips as he stood up.
Guylian shrugged—Macati hadn't taught him Civomic, but he'd taught him lots of other things.
"You do good work, Guylian," Tlory said, brushing off the seat of his pants. He started across the yard
towards Guylian, his movements completely casual.
"Um, thank you?" Guylian offered, confused as Tlory headed past him. He poked his head into the cold
box, studying it curiously.
"No spell circle," Tlory observed, wandering around the box. "That's advanced spell work. Why are you
apprenticing with a backwater mage when you're so far in your studies?"
Tlory paused in his inspection to stare at Guylian coolly. Guylian shrugged, looking away. If he wasn't
going to tell Macati that, why would he tell Tlory?
"I should tell Keira it's done," Guylian said instead of answering, taking a few hasty steps backward.
"It's funny," Tlory said, his eyes never leaving Guylian's. "I go into the city sometimes for Keira."
Guylian froze, his hands clenching into fists.
"Guylian's not a very common name, is it? Add in mage ability and you're pretty unique, aren't you,
Guylian?" Tlory asked, watching Guylian with an expression that could only be called sly.
"I don't—I don't know what you're talking about," Guylian said faintly, his head spinning. Tlory couldn't
know anything. They weren't looking for him—they'd been glad to be rid of him.
Unless they'd realized that they couldn't get at any of his aunt's money with a simple betrothal.
"Of course you don't," Tlory said. "That's why there's no color in your face and you look about ready to
make a run for it."
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"I have to go tell Keira I'm done," Guylian said weakly.
Tlory shook his head, a smile hovering about his lips. "I don't believe that. Really, Guylian," Tlory paused,
looking thoughtful. "I'm not a bad person, no matter what Macati's told you. I won't say anything."
Unless it suited him to do so, Guylian thought miserably. He was only so stupid; Tlory wouldn't have
brought it up if he'd planned to just keep it quiet.
"What do you want?" Guylian asked, slouching and trying not to think what Macati would say when he
found out.
"I just—" Tlory hesitated, the smug look slipping away. "I want to do magic again," Tlory said, almost
shyly. "It's been… Macati's not ever going to take me on again and I'm not stupid enough to play with it
on my own."
"Oh," Guylian said, blinking a few times. "That's it?"
"It's silly, isn't it?" Tlory said, making a face at him. Guylian shrugged—it didn't seem silly to him, but he
was the one pursuing magic because he missed his dead aunt. "So, you'll help me?"
"I—yes," Guylian said, but he shook his head. "I don't know what I can do though."
"I don't really know either," Tlory said, frowning. "You're further along in your studies, can't you just teach
me from where I left off?"
"It doesn't work like that," Guylian said helplessly. "I didn't—Macati doesn't each a set course."
"What about your first teacher?" Tlory asked, wandering closer to where Guylian stood.
"She—I only learned Civomic from her," Guylian said quietly, wondering if Justain counted as his first
teacher. Considering how little Guylian had learned from him, probably not.
"What sort of mage only teaches Civomic?" Tlory asked skeptically.
"She wasn't a mage," Guylian said quietly, crossing his arms and wishing he'd never left the house this
morning. Tlory stared at him disbelievingly for a moment before dismissing it with a shrug.
"Well, I'm sure you'll figure something out," Tlory decided. "I get every Tuesday off, so come by then."
Guylian nodded, biting his lip and trying not to think too much about what Macati would say about this.
He wouldn't be happy, and he'd want to know why Guylian agreed.
"Oh, and you probably shouldn't tell Macati about this," Tlory said thoughtfully. "He'd probably try to
stop you and then who knows what I'd let slip around town."
"He'll know something is going on," Guylian pointed out, his stomach turning unpleasantly at the thought
of lying to Macati.
"Just say that we talked and you want to spend more time with me," Tlory said, smirking. "You are allowed
to have friends, right?"
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"Yes," Guylian said hesitantly, absolutely certain that Macati wouldn't approve. Maybe he'd say no, and
Guylian wouldn't have to keep what he was doing secret. But if he did that, what would Tlory still let it slip
around town about who Guylian was?
"Good," Tlory said, grinning cheerfully. "You should probably go tell Keira you're done. She's waiting to
talk to you before heading out on her errands."
Guylian nodded, turning away from Tlory and heading into the tavern, the cold box the furthest thing
from his thoughts as he went to search out Keira.
*\^/*
Macati dragged himself out of bed at some point in the afternoon. He shuffled into the kitchen slowly,
managing to start the fire in the stove without mangling the simple fire spell.
Once the fresh pot of tea was brewed, he sat at the table, relatively certain he couldn't repeat Guylian's
trick of bringing a tray into the bedroom. Not without enacting a terrible tragedy that would cost him a
nice tea pot.
He was only halfway through his second cup and was somewhat ruing the decision to get out of bed when
Kysera landed in an ungraceful pile in front of him.
Macati stared at the pixie for a moment. Kysera stared back suspiciously, clambering to his feet and
shaking his wings straight.
"Guylian's coming back," Macati said, his throat catching on the last word. He got to cough loudly for that
and, pulling out the well-used and rather disgusting handkerchief he'd brought with him from the
bedroom, he coughed up a small bit of lung into it.
Kysera cooed at him—Guylian must have given him a dove's voice or something—and stared at Macati
like he'd said something vulgar.
"Don't give me that look," Macati said, feeling a little silly. Why did it seem perfectly natural for Guylian to
talk to Kysera, but just plain weird when he did it?
Kysera chirped, looking affronted and then incredibly alarmed when Macati sneezed three times in rapid
succession.
"Ulgh," Macati muttered, trying in vain to blow his nose again. He just succeeded in making himself light-
headed, so he stopped, resigning himself to staying in the kitchen until he could work up enough energy to
go back to bed.
Kysera had backed across the table and was half-hiding behind the tea pot, watching Macati warily. Macati
huffed a little—the closest approximation he could do to laughing without kicking off another coughing
fit.
"You're lucky you're a construct," Macati said, his voice sounding rather like someone had scraped the
inside of his throat with a cheese grater. "You can't catch this plague."
Kysera just continued to stare at him, and Macati sighed, curling his fingers around his tea cup and letting
his eyes shut.
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