Luther's Pride Part 39

“Now, can you show me your arcana?” Criella asked after a brief moment of awkward silence. 

Luther chuckled, but nodded. He supposed it was only fair that Criella see what she’d been right about. However, he wasn’t sure if the physical distance would prevent him from connecting to his wives or affect the results. 

“Sure,” He said. “Let’s see if distance plays a part. Which is farther away, the temple, or the Verdell estate?” 

“It’s now your estate, but the Verdell estate is farther,” Criella answered, watching Luther with interest. “Assuming they’ve reached it, which they probably haven’t, yet.” 

Luther couldn’t think of it that way. Yes, the Le Fey clan was growing larger with each marriage, and the Verdell family’s gifts to their daughters at their wedding enlarged his wealth, but he hadn’t married them for that. No doubt Branan would have something to say about it the next time he saw them. Try as he might, Luther couldn’t see Branan’s hand mark on Criella’s cheek, but he knew the slap had been there. Branan would pay for that, and the rest of his sins, soon enough.

“Are you going to show me, then?” Criella asked, raising her eyebrow when Luther hadn’t immediately begun his spellwork. 

Luther closed his eyes and cleared his thoughts. He needed to practice his tenchinque anyway, to grow quicker at taking on his wives’ arcanas. He visualized the streams and pool he typically visualized for his spell. He chanted the words in the ancient language, guiding his spirit through the magic. “Through the stream, around the pool, upstream to the source.” 

Each word in the ancient tongue focused his mind on the task, and his spirit followed the path he described. Gestures helped as well, as Luther traced the path in the air before him with his index finger. 

His spirit surged forward, moving through the stream and pool of magic without resistance as his words and gestures drove his spirit along. The magic churned and flowed with his spell, tensing his shoulders, but only momentarily. 

Despite their physical distances, the length of the streams and the distance within the pool remained unchanged. Their spiritual connections were still strong, and Luther found Eira’s spirit where it had been before in relation to his own and the others. 

Unfortunately, as before, it shifted tumultuously between forms. Without her focused meditation, her mind agitated her spirit, turning it anxious. The shape and density shifted on sliding axes. Anxiety, sorrow, and many other emotions warred within her spirit, and the unpredictable nature of the changes made it nearly impossible for Luther to join. He watched the pattern repeat twice, then tried to match the rhythm, but the beat was irregular, and her spirit recoiled at his touch. He grimaced as her spirit shifted, slicing through his own with a cut that made him ache. She must have felt something, too, because her spirit grew even more agitated, accelerating its changes. 

Entering Eira’s spirit wouldn’t work in this situation. Not without her understanding what was happening. He needed a way to communicate with her despite the distance, which brought Rhosyn to mind. 

He used the words of the ancient tongue to aid him in moving through the streams again, moving to a different source: Rhosyn. She was with Eira, but her spirit didn’t seem nearly as agitated. It hung in the air like a cloud of rain. It rotated in a slow-moving circle above the stream’s end, where droplets of magic flew up and rained down in equal measure. 

It was strange how each spirit seemed to defy his expectations. He hadn’t thought that Rhosyn was a particularly sad person, yet the overwhelming sorrow he felt as she shifted his spirit’s form to match hers nearly made him abandon his attempt to match her energy. Restrained sadness sat heavy in his chest, spinning him with her as his spirit spread out to match her vaporous density. 

The bigger challenge was that he didn’t know one of her spells. He knew her ability was psychomancy, and he was familiar with the basic principles, but she cast her spells silently when or if she cast them. He’d have to make his best guess and create something off the cuff. His imagination did its best as he cast a spell in the ancient tongue. It was only as he cast the spell that he thought this might make a poor demonstration for Criella if she didn’t hear what he heard. “Let my mind speak to Rhosyn’s mind, and hear her thoughts in response.” 

The magic flowed, and suddenly the sounds of the world around him disappeared. Instead, there was only Rhosyn’s voice. 

“What was that? Why am I getting hot?” Rhosyn’s voice asked itself. 

“Rhosyn, can you hear me?” Luther thought in her direction. 

“Ah!” Rhosyn said. “Luther? You’re doing this?” 

“Yes,” Luther said, quite happily. “I decided to try your arcana.” 

“End the spell, now!” Rhosyn said. “Psychomancy is not something to mess around with if you don’t know what you’re doing. What spell did you cast? No, don’t bother telling me, just end the spell!” 

Luther could hear the panic in her mind’s voice, and he wanted to argue. 

“Don’t argue with me!” Rhosyn said. “I know this magic better than you do! End it now before you get hurt!” 

“Can you at least tell me–” Luther was going to ask for a basic psychomancy spell, but Criella shook him by the shoulder, and he dropped the spell as he opened his eyes. 

Sound came rushing back to his ears. 

“LUTHER!” Criella said, “Gods above, what was that?” She touched her ear, then looked at it as if expecting to see blood, but her fingers remained dry. 

“What? Luther asked, confused. 

“I couldn’t hear anything, and then I just heard Rhosyn having half a conversation. I’m assuming with you?” Criella asked.

Luther nodded. “You heard her?” 

“Yes,” Criella answered. “But you couldn’t hear me? I couldn’t hear myself. I was shouting–”  

It was at that moment that they realized a group of servants had run into the room and stopped in the archway when they saw that Luther was okay. 

They stared at the servants. The servants stared at them. 

“What’s going on?” Wulfric’s voice sounded from behind the servants. 

Criella straightened, realizing that she was holding Luther’s shoulders. She released him and returned to her chair across from him. 

“Everything’s fine,” Luther said, waving the concern on their faces away as if it were a fly. “Just a spell I’m experimenting with that went slightly awry.” 

At least three of the servants immediately moved behind Wulfric, as if the word ‘experimenting’ and ‘spell’ in the same sentence were equivalent to waving a sword in one hand and an open bottle of wine in the other. Luther sighed. He didn’t blame them. It had been a foolish thing to attempt in such a casual environment, with no thought to safety. 

“I’ll stick to the spells I’m more familiar with for now, I think,” Luther said, smiling slightly. “Though, out of curiosity, did anyone else hear Rhosyn’s voice just now? Or was it only myself and Criella?” 

The servants looked at each other, then shook their heads. He supposed he trusted them to tell him the truth. He trusted Wulfric at least, though he wished he had an artist on hand to sketch the man’s bewildered expression. It contorted his face into something quite amusing to Luther, though he doubted the old man would appreciate Luther’s saying so. 

“Dismissed,” Luther said, giving most of the servants an excuse to flee that they seized upon like beggars on a gold nugget. 

Wulfric lingered, though not for long, when it was clear Luther and Criella wished for some privacy. Criella waited until they were alone in the parlor before speaking. 

“So you have to cast two spells instead of one,” Criella said. “And that was some spell gone awry out of Rhosyn’s arcana?” She crossed her legs, rested her elbows on the armrests, and steepled her fingers. Her piercing gaze crossed the room and bored into Luther. 

“Yes,” Luther said. “In my defense, I hadn’t tried connecting with Rhosyn before, or casting any of her spells. I likely should have given you a demonstration with Jo’s or Helena’s.” 

“Well, go on then,” Criella said. “I’ll wait.” Her tone made it clear that she wasn’t impressed by how long it took him to produce the previous magical effect. 

Luther sighed, rushing through his spell this time, trying to do it as fast as possible. He went with Jo’s spirit, since her arcana was the flashier of the two. He found her receptive and only hoped the sudden onset of his connection didn’t cause her any embarrassment with whatever she was doing. She needed to practice maintaining focus anyway, so this could only help, right? 

He cast her shatter spell, keeping the focus on a single fireplace brick. The painted tile exploded into powder with a violent boom, but Luther was ready for it. As the small stones sprayed outward, he caught them in a second spell, suspending them in the air less than a foot from the fireplace. Then he cast the repairing spell, sealing them back into the brick they’d once been without a crack remaining. At least, none that he could see. 

Criella couldn’t hide her amazement. Hearing tell was one thing, but to see it with her own two eyes? He’d impressed her, but more than that, the relief in her eyes as she looked away from the fireplace and returned her gaze to Luther made him feel as though any danger were worth it. He ended the connection with Jo and gave Criella a grin. 

The magic he’d used thus far had been a significant portion, though it was tough for him to tell if it cost him more power with the others further away. It didn’t feel as if it’d cost him more to use Jo’s spells than when she was beside him, so perhaps that was good news. 

“Impressed?” Luther asked. 

“With you? No. But with your arcana, yes.” Criella said, returning his grin. “Does it take more magic to cast it your way than it would take Jo to cast the same spell?” 

“A little,” Luther admitted. “But it’s not an insurmountable difference.” He shrugged. “They’re obviously more practiced with their spells and more efficient with them. The good news is, the connection appears to be a spiritual one, not a physical one. So the distance between us doesn’t seem to make a difference.” 

“But would emotional distance make a difference?” Criella asked. “If Jo were angry with you, for instance, could she keep you from accessing her arcana?” 

Luther hadn’t considered it before, but he assumed so. If Eira’s tumultuous spirit was any indication, the connection to his wives could be volatile. Was that because his relationship with Eira was volatile? He didn’t think so, but perhaps he should talk to her. The more he understood his wives, the easier it would be to match their spirits. The others, at least, had their spirits and emotions in states he could more easily identify with. Eira’s default state seemed more volatile, more anxious than the others. 

“I think it’s more about them than it is their relationship with me,” Luther said. “The more I understand and identify with their spirits, the easier it is for me to connect.” 

Criella considered that, though she didn’t remark on it other than to ask another question. “And you understand and identify with all of your spouses?” 

“Well, to an extent,” Luther said. “We’ve only done so much training with this since we discovered it this morning. And it was during meditation, so circumstances were pretty calm, but we’re working on developing our speed and techniques.” 

“Okay, show me,” Criella said. “Do it again. I’ll time you. How long does it normally take you to connect with one? And it is different times for each one, or–”

“Are you my solicitor, or my trainer?” Luther asked, almost laughing at Criella’s enthusiasm. 

“A trainer isn’t a bad idea,” Criella said. “Though finding someone who specializes in this would be impossible. Your best bet is to find a generalist, and a skilled one at that. Perhaps someone who has studied the theoretical possibility of such an arcana, if the idea existed outside of your father’s speculation. It’d be expensive, but I can make inquiries in the city and–” 

“Whoa, slow down,” Luther said. “You’re getting way ahead of everything, Criella.” 

Criella straightened in her chair, setting her feet to the floor. “You have a matter of days, Luther. Days before Branan comes at you, and he’s trying to marry and replenish his strength in that time. You should be pursuing every advantage.” 

Luther sighed. She was right, of course, but there was no living with Criella when she was right about what should be done. “I don’t suppose enjoying a day in bed with my new spouses is an option?” 

Criella’s eyes narrowed, a dangerous gleam in her eye, though Luther didn’t know what had caused it. Her tail twitched, and she licked her fanged canine before speaking. “If you and your wives want to spend your time that way, I’ll see that your funeral arrangements are handled with respect before I quit your service. I’m never working for Branan, and if someone like him were to govern this valley? I wouldn’t be able to live here either.” 

“Okay, okay, point taken,” Luther said, raising his hands in surrender. “I’ll drill as much as possible, but perhaps we should do it somewhere more suitable, where Wulfric won’t have to worry about me turning the fireplace into ball-shot.” 

“Thank you,” Criella said, rising from her chair. “The garden then?” 

Luther nodded, rising and following her. “The garden.”