Selayna never did pay Aralim a visit, as he had suggested to her. The Overseer of Magic had proven interesting conversation—more so than Magistrate Fetres—but apparently, she did not feel the same. So, a week after the Emperor’s birthday, Aralim had decided that it was time to move on.
The way onward would take them to Rainrest, the fourth and final visit on Aralim’s tour of Numa’nakres. From Rainrest they would return to Rema, unless something led them elsewhere. To reach Rainrest from Trader’s Bay, they chartered a riverboat to take them up the Kebana River. It would be a little over a ten-day voyage, darting between fishing villages.
Aralim listened to many of Master Velad’na’s lessons entirely due to proximity. Even if he was sitting and chatting with Nilless, he could hear Miresh’s tutor speaking about the behaviors of animals, the behavior of the river, or the method with which she focused through her Crux. It seemed the only times that a lesson was not being given was when Velad’na sat next to Miresh in quiet meditation and focus—sometimes for hours each morning.
One morning, Aralim decided this was the ideal time to speak with Velad’na. He felt in many ways like he still knew little of the magician. A few moments after he had sat down next to the two meditators, Velad’na opened his eyes and looked at Aralim blankly. “Aralim,” he said.
Aside from that one word, there was a chorus of jungle sounds—whistling birds, buzzing insects, the ripple of the water around deep, dark roots. It provided a distinct accompaniment for their quiet contemplations.
Miresh seemed more deeply focused than Aralim would have expected during a meditation. Her brow was furrowed. “Special meditation this morning?” Aralim whispered to the master, careful not to disturb his young friend.
“Meditation is useful for clearing the mind, but most of the times when you see a magician in quiet contemplation, they are training their thoughts on a specific goal,” the older man explained. “That is the way of magic—only with great practice does accomplishing the goal become second nature.”
“And toward what goal do you train?”
Velad’na blinked. “Me? I ward off illness—from myself and from all in our company.”
Aralim paused. He had not expected that, and he knew little of how such a thing might be accomplished. “I’ve always been curious,” he said. “How does warding off illness work? Do you have to have had the illness?”
“Certainly not,” replied the grey-bearded man. “It is true that the most potent and efficient magic is that born of intense familiarity, but it is not required. Knowledge of the inner workings of a thing allow a magician the chance to manipulate it, and every successful manipulation of a thing begets a greater skill with that thing. To cure an illness requires practice—and a lot of research.
“I will admit,” he continued, “that no magician is perfectly capable of protecting against every disease and ailment, but maintaining health is also a responsibility for the body—lack of health is not always due to an illness. As you can see…there are many ways a magician can help.”
Aralim nodded deeply. It made sense in a truly fascinating way. “So…in a way, maintaining our health betters your capacities to use your skills, should you ever need them.”
“Precisely.” Then a sly smile formed on Velad’na’s weathered features. “Though, if any of you were to fall ill…curing you would be far better practice.”
Even Miresh smiled at the dark humour. Her bowed head, with its shaved sides, bobbed slightly as she resumed her focus.
“I could try drinking the river water?” Aralim offered, grinning.
“Let’s not risk it,” Velad’na concluded, with a smirk.
Aralim shrugged. “It does give me an interesting perspective on helping others, though. The Path is a never-ending meditation.” He closed his eyes as he had done when he had first sat down next to them.
Velad’na said nothing more, and Aralim assumed that he had resumed his meditation.
A few moments passed in silence, but then the periodic whistling grew more incessant, forming clear sets of five. It was right above them now, a bird circling overhead. Aralim heard Miresh laugh, and when he opened his eyes, she had tilted her head back to regard something above them with great joy.
A small blur landed on the edge of the boat. It was a small brown bird—with vibrant blue wings and a chest as white as snow. It whistled curiously and regarded Miresh with all its attention.
“Very good, Miresh!” Velad’na exclaimed.
The bird was startled by the outburst but only flitted a few lengths of itself away from the trio of meditators. Its eyes and tilting head remained trained on Miresh.
“You’re taming birds with magic now?” Aralim asked, with a chuckle.
Miresh nodded proudly. “He’ll follow us as long as I want, right?” At a nod from Velad’na, she went on: “Apparently, I can also train him to fetch things, if they aren’t too heavy for him.”
“It requires great practice,” reminded the sage. “Unless it was a pigeon or the like.”
“That is quite useful,” Aralim pointed out. “You could become the great beast tamer, surrounded by birds, reed cats, and the occasional bear.” He knew how much she liked her animals.
Miresh grinned radiantly. “Imagine—a bear at the Iron Palace!”
“It would be a sight to behold,” Aralim said, smiling.
Accompanied by the whistling bird, they rowed along the river and around the next bend.