The Chronicles of Harold the Healer Ch. 08

"I'm impressed," Harold replied, leaning back in his chair to study her. Her body was of the same sturdy stock as you tend to see in the Northlands, but not as muscular as most, and she had the blonde hair, wavy in her case, down past her shoulders, and blue eyes that are typical. She was attractive to look at as well, but he wasn't feeling any urges to undress her, perhaps because said urges had been eliminated by what he and Lydia had been doing. "And the answer is yes, believe it or not. The words that we speak are from an old language called Nital that was the ancestor of what we now call Kingdom Standard, as well as Argosian, Carcosan, and a few other languages from nations that border the West Ocean," he gestured towards the water beyond the lighthouse.

"So, it was people from the old Nital Empire who started figuring it out?"

"Possibly even from before then. Mages have been around in one form or another for as long as we have had recorded history. The Nitals were the first that we know of who started making a systematic study of it, recording their findings, and seeking out and teaching those who could use them. Why Magic spells work with Nital words and not others, we don't know. Believe me, in all these hundreds of years, people have tried practically everything, yet even now researchers and occasionally desperate students discover new tweaks and ways of doing things. Let's get you started with lighting a candle."

"I have to go to the stage in about an hour. I'll be singing a few songs as part of the variety show. People love to hear me sing, and have told me that my voice is enchanting. Maybe now I know why," she added dryly, with a wry smile. He grinned back.

"I have absolutely no musical talent whatsoever. Practically every Professor had a look at me at one time or another, trying to figure out why. The best they could come up with is that it's some sort of weird curse, though how it was set and by whom they had no idea. It side benefits, such as they are, are that I'm completely immune to Musical Magic and that I have great success with the Speak to Ravens spell." She smiled back at him. He is such a charming man, no wonder Lydia went after him, she mused. "Anyway, before we run out of time, I want you to reach out and feel the Magic that is around the candle, like you do when you reach out to feel the weather. Close your eyes if you need to." He blinked as she did, using her imagination to create an invisible arm and hand that reached out to feel the air around the candle. "I can feel that," he said softly. "Interesting. You're imagining and arm and hand, aren't you?"

"Yes," she replied. "I can almost see them in front of me."

"Can you move it independently of your real arms?" She moved her left arm, but her invisible arm moved with it, despite her best efforts to somehow detach it.

"Ugh, no, I can't seem to," she muttered.

"Don't worry about that," he replied. "Most Mages actually can't. It's the "Invisible Hands" that are doing the Magical manipulation, and they mimic what your real hands are doing, which is why we do the gestures. You will quickly discover that although you can reach for quite a distance, you can't manipulate it unless you're close. The power that you have to input varies with the square of the distance."

"So, my effective reach is an inverse-square law, like gravity or electromagnetism?" His eyebrows elevated with surprise. "I was a science nerd in school," she admitted, rolling her eyes.

"I hear you. It's far easier to learn than people, whose rules seem so random and arbitrary, sometimes," Harold muttered.

"Only sometimes?" This got an eye-roll from him in return.

"Anyway, focus your attention on the candle's wick. Pinch the fingers together on it and say 'Satus ignis." Carefully, Millie concentrated on getting her invisible hand to pinch the wick. "The harder you pinch, the more energy you're putting into it, so be careful." She nodded, releasing her hold on it a bit.

"Satus ignis," she whispered, and the candle flared and was lit. "I did it!" Her eyes were as round as saucers and she was breathing heavily, as though she'd been exercising.

"It gets much easier with practice," he assured her. "Practice, practice, practice," he said in a nasal voice, wagging an index finger, probably imitating a Professor, she thought with a grin. "To put it out, say 'finis ignis' and wave your hand over the flame. With some extra practice, you can grab its energy and absorb it into you." She concentrated again.

"Finis ignis," she said firmly, waving her hand, and the flame went out. She felt a small jolt as its energy went in and she flinched involuntarily.

"Another simple and extremely handy spell is the Mage Light. Hold your hands flat vertically in front of you, and focus your imaginary hands where you want the light to appear, like here over this candle." She concentrated and saw her "hands" over the candle. "Now, rotate them once around each other like you're wrapping up a long string and say 'fiat lux'." A bright, white light appeared. "OK, a bit too bright, so slowly pinch your index finger and thumb together until it's the right brightness." The brightness rapidly fluctuated until it was at a more comfortable level. "You can adjust its size by pinching and opening your middle finger and thumb." The light rapidly swelled and contracted until it was the size of a small ball. "Excellent work, Millie!" he praised as she then moved the light around by moving her imaginary hand. "'Fiat tenebris will extinguish it." She did, and it vanished silently. Mooch, who had stayed with them, barked at its sudden disappearance and ran around sniffing the ground, making them laugh.

"That didn't seem so hard," she said, scratching her head, "but it was a bit tiring."

"It's a lot more difficult when you're a hormone-sodden teenager in a much different place from home, and with a lot of other hormone-sodden teenagers all around you," he added dryly. "It's all in the focus, and the environment and maturity make all the difference." He stood up and stretched. "Let's go before we miss the show."

"Where did the time go?" she asked, checking the position of the sun with a look of surprise. "Half an hour, just like that?" He nodded as they briskly made their way through the tents and ropes towards the stage and lighthouse, with Mooch trotting behind them.

"Time does tend to fly when you're really focused on something, doesn't it?"

"It happened all of the time at school," she replied, shaking her head irritably. "Millie! Why are you still up? It's past your bedtime!" she continued, hands on her hips, clearly imitating her mother, getting a laugh from the Mage.

"Back in school, we used to say that we had too much blood in our caffeine system. There didn't seem to be enough hours in the day to do all of the work that we had to do. All-nighters were a regular occurrence. I'm really glad that I don't have to do that anymore. Ah, here we are." They passed under the rope barrier at the northernmost end of the rows of tents and into the large cleared area in front of the stage, which had a gentle slope down towards it so that everyone could see. People had been accumulating for a while, with many groups having picnic baskets for food and blankets to sit on, and the air was filled with the murmur of conversation. There were several large trees to offer shade during the day, including the one that Harold had been leaning on while watching Mara at work and, since nobody was under it for whatever reason, it was to there that he and Mooch migrated while Millie went off to the stage to get herself into the lineup. He sat down with his legs out and his back leaning against the tree.

"Oof!" he complained as the dog flopped himself down on his legs, effectively pinning him under his not inconsiderable weight, and gazed lovingly at him. "Let me guess, it's time to scratch your ears," he sighed resignedly and did so, getting appreciative moans and grunts as he went behind one ear, then the other, then under the chin, and finally on his belly when he rolled over on the ground right next to his leg. "This isn't even my dog!" he said to a passing couple with their two kids in response to their amused looks.

As he scratched the dog into a blissful torpor, he watched the activity on the stage. A small brass band, including a woman on a drum kit whose hair was dyed green, was setting itself up on the right side of the stage, which was completely open on all sides. The breeze had been shifting all day, he'd noted, and was blowing off the ocean, bringing welcomed cooler air. He knew that it would mix with the humid air that had been plaguing the area all day and chill it to produce fog. He noted a man and a woman in an open buggy pull up to the base of the lighthouse, get out, and enter it through a door. It looked like he was not the only one who was aware of the weather. It was approaching nine o'clock, but at this latitude and this time of the year, there was still at least half an hour to go before sunset.

"Hello, lover," said Lydia as she sat down beside him, making him jump a bit and causing Mooch to complain sleepily before conking out again. "That was the best damned massage that I have ever had in my life. I feel like a new woman. Thank you."

"Hi, Lydia. I'm glad that you were able to make it to the show. I wasn't sure if you'd wake up in time," he replied as they put their arms around each other and she snuggled in. "And, you're welcome."

"You had a chat with Millie?" He nodded.

"She's really sharp. She would do well if she were to go to the Mage School. It would open a lot of opportunities for her."

"We would miss her here. She's really added a spark of life to the outfit."

"She doesn't have to go if she doesn't want to. The School will accept anybody who wants training, regardless of age and experience." She nodded thoughtfully. Smoke started to come out of the lighthouse's chimney, which he pointed out. "It looks like she will have to compete with the foghorn tonight."

"It's an occupational hazard around here, especially at this time of the year. When the wind shifts around like this, it's also a sign that rain is on the way. Not that it isn't needed, but it makes the conditions on the water treacherous. Svend has a good harbour, but you have to approach, and leave, it with caution, especially at low tide. There are other lighthouses around, and buoys with bells to mark the channel, but any sailor with an ounce of common sense will just anchor outside and wait until conditions clear."

"What are they burning? The smoke is black."

"Coal. We have a lot more of it around here than wood. It's dirty until the fire heats up and becomes more efficient." A round of applause came from the audience as the band played a quick bouncy number and a man strode to the front of the stage. The descending sun lit up the area with a gentle golden glow, but the air felt cool and moist as it blew gently in from the ocean. Waves could be heard in the distance, gently hissing and washing over the rocks below the lighthouse.

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the Svend Little Theatre's Variety Night, graciously hosted by the Northlands Traveling Fair," announced the man in a booming voice. He was tall and barrel-chested and looked like he was wearing a costume, complete with a wig. Behind him, tall painted panels intended to be the backdrop for a play were being maneuvered into position and anchored down in case the wind became too frisky. "As you know, it's Lammas today, so we're halfway to the Autumnal Equinox." There were some boos and laughter at them because nobody looked forward to the long nights. "It isn't associated with Magic the way Beltane and All Hallows Eve are, but it's a special day nonetheless, and to celebrate it, we'll present the one-act play, "Help! There's a Mage in My Bedroom!"

"Hey, Mages don't always wind up in people's bedrooms!" Harold protested good-naturedly.

"But when they do, you don't want them to leave," Lydia purred into his ear, giving it a nibble. The play was a silly farce about a woman who was cheating on her husband with a Mage. Said husband came back to the house too soon, and he was cheating on her with another Mage, and there was a lot of running around, hiding, inopportune visits from tradespeople and house repairers, puns, double-entendres, a couple of songs, and general chaos until eventually everyone was exposed, including the two Mages who were married to and cheating on each other with the other couple. Its final line was "I think that this will be the last time we'll be cheating on each other for some time," complete with suggestive leers. The company got a well-earned standing ovation.

"Amazing love-making with a beautiful woman and a good laugh," Harold grinned after the company had taken its bows and everyone resumed their seats. Darkness had fallen during the show, but the various lights that had been lit before it started kept the stage well illuminated. They could also see that the light in the lighthouse had started up, but fortunately for the show, the foghorn had remained silent. "I haven't felt this good in a long time." Millie, who had played a small part as a flirtatious fruit seller who had held a pair of grapefruit to her chest to advertise the size of her wares, was talking animatedly with the announcer, who had played the male lead, and scanned the audience before spotting Harold and Lydia and pointing in their direction. Harold's attempt to casually sidle behind the tree was abruptly arrested by Lydia's sweet smile and iron grip on his left wrist.

"Ladies and gentlemen, it appears that we have a genuine Mage in our midst this evening," boomed the man, pointing in his direction. "Healer Harold has the distinction of being one of the very few to fight the Mighty Mara to a draw, and then healed the injured hoof of a horse afterwards." He reluctantly bowed to acknowledge the polite applause from the crowd. "Would you like to come up and say a few words?" He barely had time to grab his staff before Lydia was propelling him the relatively short distance to the stage. "Come on up!"

"I've got this," he told her, with a tell-tale mischievous look. He backed up, ran at the stage, and at the last moment used his staff to vault the four feet up, doing a complete flip and bringing the staff overhead to land with a thud from his boots. The startled audience and people on the stage gave him some more applause, which he accepted graciously. "You don't need a Healer to tell you that a good laugh has amazing restorative power. The actors, musicians, and the folks who work behind the scenes all did a tremendous job! Please show them a little more love!" There was another outpouring of applause and cheers, which the others accepted. "Urk!" he said as Millie's long arm reached out and grabbed the back of his shirt collar as he was casually sneaking towards the right side of the stage. She wagged an admonishing finger at him and he cringed theatrically, getting some laughs. Then he noticed that Lydia and Mooch had been shadowing him from the ground, ready to grab him if he'd jumped off the stage, and pouted and looked appealingly for help from the announcer, getting more laughs.

"I should quit clowning around and turn the stage over to Millie and her marvellous voice," he said. "The fog will be coming in soon, for which I apologize. Mara smacked my head a few times too many and it's starting to leak." He moved a bit closer to the band as the audience chuckled, where he turned to face the audience. "I will not join her because my singing, and anything I do musically causes panic."

"Thank you, Healer Harold," Millie replied dryly, to which he replied with Respectful Bow #3. At her nod, the conductor raised her baton and the band began to play a slow opening. Her voice was clear and strong, and the song was a sad ballad of the history of Mary Celeste and how she had supposedly thrown herself onto the rocks below the lighthouse in despair after learning that her husband Clark had been lost at sea. Harold watched her closely, tracking the gestures that she was making with her arms and hands as she sang, and feeling the gentle Magic that she was unconsciously weaving into the music. As always, it washed over him without affecting him, but he could see the effect that it was having on the crowd, intensifying the emotion behind the song and the story. Tears were on every face when she was finished, and several of the band members had had to stop playing because they had been overcome. Even Mara and Kelsey, whom he spotted in the middle, were emotional, and Lydia was wiping her eyes.

The song finished just as the foghorn exhaled a low, long moan that reached out to the sea, a sound of warning, but somehow sorrowful as well. Cold, moist tendrils of fog were starting to materialize as they drifted in from the water. From the left side of the stage, a figure appeared walking along the edge of the stage, right in front of the audience. It was a petite woman, only about five-foot-six, wearing a long dress and bodice that had been out of style for a long time. Her hair was halfway down her back and looked like it had been in the wind for a while. Her nose was sharp, her lips were thin and pale, and her eyes were a dark colour. Her most noticeable attribute was her pale, ghostly glow. She stopped, surveyed the audience, who had varying degrees of astonishment on their faces, then the people on the stage.

"That was the most beautiful rendition of my song that I have ever heard. Thank you," she addressed Millie. Her voice was quiet, but audible in the near silence. "But I did not throw myself over the cliff. It was dark, my heart had just been broken, I was too close to the edge, slipped on wet grass and fell. Now I'm a ghost, and have been for far too long. I was not able to cross over because the door was too far away and I could not reach it in time because I got stuck in my body." She walked over to Millie, just as the foghorn sounded again. "You have Magic in you, girl with the beautiful voice, but you aren't the one who was promised to me." She swiveled her head to look straight at Harold. "It was you." Harold was surprised, as he had no idea what 'promised to' meant in her context, but he recovered and performed the Very Respectful Bow to her.

"You are Mary Celeste?" She nodded.

"I was watching your silly antics, and I must admit that you made even me laugh a tiny bit." There were some chuckles from the audience, and he bowed again, with Polite Bow #3 this time.

"High praise indeed," Harold replied. "Though the phrase 'promised to' perturbs me."

"Last week, I was standing there," she pointed to the left of the lighthouse, "and a man came up to me and told me that my time here was finally coming to an end. A man with unique talents and a woman with the voice of an angel will be coming to the Fair on this day to open the door for you."

"Tell me about these doors," said Harold after a pause to think, loud enough for all to hear. "What did you see when you died?"

"I sat up from my body, and looked towards the water. About twenty feet away, I saw the golden outline of a doorway appear. It opened inwards, and beyond it was a room, all shining with a golden light. Someone was sitting behind a desk, beckoning me to come. I tried to get out of my body, but my leg was stuck. I couldn't get out. After a minute, when I'd finally broken free, I ran for it, but the door was closing and I couldn't get to it in time. I was left standing on the rocks with the waves washing through me and the foghorn blowing like the Last Call, except that nobody was coming."

"Ms. Celeste," said the announcer and lead actor, "my name is Jason Cole." He offered the Very Polite Bow, which she appeared to accept. "May I fill in some details?"