Arri- February 22, 2005

February 22, 2005
Dear Keish,

Regaining consciousness was a slow, painful process. I was lying in a strange, hard bed with blankets all around me. Even the top of my head was covered. I cracked my eyes open. The room was dark except for a small flickering light whose origin I could not see lying down. It wasn’t a room I recognized. For a few seconds I processed this information. Then panic shot through me.
I sat bolt upright and jerked out of the bed, dashing madly across the room. Someone caught me, their arms wrapping tightly around mine, forcing me still.
“It’s all right, Arri,” Uncle Winthrop’s voice was low and firm, “You’re safe; we’re all safe.”
I trembled, but stopped struggling.
 “Where am I?” I asked.
“In the Mental Home,” he said.
I looked around and recognized the typical, sparse furniture of an exam room. I had been lying on the bed.
“How did… What happened?” I asked. There was still cloth wrapped around my head. I reached up to feel it: bandages and a small amount of blood. Panic coursed through me again, but this time I controlled it, fought it down. I could figure this out. I closed my eyes and used the sensing technique Master Ujifil taught me. I had a concussion, but no permanent damage.
“You’re going to be all right,” said Uncle W. soothingly, “Just sit down.”
He guided me back over to the bed, then returned to the door.
“Master Etaq,” he called, “Run and get Dr. Rascada and let him know Arri’s awake. Then send messages to Lady Etautca, my household, and the Pren household.”
Uncle W. turned back to me, his eyes worried. “Dr. Rascada has seen you, and you’re okay,” he said calmly, “Master Ujifil came and brought Madame Trenholme, but you’re incredibly stubborn. Even Madame Trenholme, who learned from Jesse, couldn’t do anything for you. I think Master Ujifil was rather put out about having to leave Dr. Rascada in charge,” He sounded amused.
“What happened though?” I asked, still disoriented.
Uncle W.’s expression grew guarded.
“What’s the last thing you remember, Arri?” he asked.
“I’m not sure,” I said, uneasily, “I had the strangest dream. I’m not sure where my memory ends and the dream begins…”
“Start with waking up yesterday morning,” he suggested.
 “I woke up when I normally do and went into the kitchen to get a muffin, but Cook was still in bed and we were out of muffins, so I put jam on some leftover dinner rolls instead.”
“That much is true,” said Uncle W., “Gretel mentioned her cook woke up with the flu this morning.”
“Then I rode Sprigs to the Mental Home. Dr. Rascada was out, but Master Untryc let me in. Father was sleeping and very peaceful, so Master Untryc said I could sit with him.”
Uncle W. nodded and I realized he probably had some version of what happened and was comparing it with mine. He was rather too calm for what I was going to say next. I swallowed.
“So I was sitting with Father, and he was sleeping, and I was holding his hand,” I stopped uncertainly, wondering, hoping, that I had fallen asleep while sitting there.
“Master Untryc said you looked up, as if at something, and then asked, ‘What do I do?’. Then you closed your eyes.” Uncle W. prompted.
“Yes,” I said warily, “Keish needed help with a spell, unless it was a dream.”
Uncle W. was less doubtful.
“Keish called you?” he asked sharply, “What was wrong?”
“Everything’s fine now,” I said quickly, “Imato’s fine.”
“Imato is over a week away on the border of Greste. How do you know he’s fine?” he demanded.
I put my head in my hands.
“I saw him,” I said, “Keish was helping him cast some kind of ward,” images of battle rose unbidden to my mind, “They needed extra power, so they called on me. It worked. They won.”
There was a minute of silence. I didn’t look up. Instead I lay down on the bed. It would be better to just think the rest of it was a dream…
“What kind of ward, Arri?” asked Uncle W. after a minute.
“I don’t know. I’ve never seen a ward like that before.” I shifted uneasily on the bed, trying to concentrate on the pain in my head. “Keish will probably send a letter explaining,” I added.
“Master Untryc said that Quin stood,” Uncle W. prompted gently.
I didn’t respond.
“He seemed perfectly lucid, except that he was looking at the same invisible thing you were looking at. Arri, how can that be?... Arri?”
“We needed him,” I whispered, “We were going to lose the battle, so I opened a connection with him the way Keish did with me. We had tapped into the old Brio magic somehow and that made it possible. He woke up. I thought for a minute that he was cured…”
“He said something about a weapon?” Uncle W. said.
“He told us to use the ward as a weapon, and Imato did, and it worked,” I said.
“A ward as a weapon? Quin was lucid?” asked Uncle W. I glanced at him and saw his eyes wide in amazement.
“Not really,” I said, “I’m not sure how it worked. I just know the Grestian army fell and none of the Elcaran or Adyan soldiers were hurt. When the connection dropped, Father lost it.” I looked quickly away, “I don’t remember what happened next.”
“That must have been something to see,” said Uncle W., “I suppose I’ll wait for Keish’s letter to learn more though. Master Untryc said Quin pulled the chair out from under you,” said Uncle W. slowly, “that he smashed it into a wall. Master Untryc had to call in two other home assistants to restrain him. You were hit on the head in the commotion…”
I didn’t want to hear about it.
“Is everyone okay?” I asked.
“Yes, and Quin’s sleeping again.”
“I want to sleep too,” I said.
“Okay,” said Uncle W., softly, “It’s night now. I’ll help you home in the morning.” He waited a minute and then added softly, “I’m sure getting hit on the head was an accident. Your Father was disoriented and didn’t realize what he was doing. They say he acted like he thought he was still in a battle.”
I turned my back to him without answering. It took a long time to actually fall asleep. My head throbbed beneath the bandage and images of Father kept flashing across my brain. I wanted so badly for it to have all been a dream. I felt so helpless.

Uncle W. was there in the morning. He saddled Sprigs and rode behind me in case I fell, but it was an unnecessary precaution. My head still hurt a bit, but I was fine. When we got to Gretel’s townhouse, I was ordered to bed. It wouldn’t hurt me to miss class once in the term, they said, and Uncle W. promised to send notes to my professors.
I peered out my bedroom window until I saw Uncle W. leaving down the street. The house became very still. I was supposed to be sleeping and I supposed everyone had been ordered to leave me alone, but I couldn’t sleep. So much of what happened was muddled in my head. I needed to know exactly what happened. I waited a few more minutes and then got my fairy book from the dresser drawer. I wrote a quick note to say where I was going and set it on the bed. Hopefully, no one would even realize I was gone before I came back. It took only a minute to say the spell. I found the Winged Lioness waiting for me in the practice cavern, pacing in tight circles.
“The Brios have been busy,” she began, “Bellington wards are called impossible for a reason. You must congratulate Imato for me. Well done.” Her eyes were serious. I had come expecting to begin by telling about Gretel’s condition, but Trena seemed unusually agitated. The whole cave tingled with tension.
“Imato drew magic from my father,” I said, coming right to the heart of what I was considering.
“Yes,” said Trena, cocking her head to one side and regarding me.
“Father has no magic,” I continued, “At least none I’ve ever seen.”
“Dormant magic is not uncommon, and Brio magic has a knack for drawing it out,” said Trena, “especially in instances of marriage. You should also know that in a situation where a person truly has no magic of their own, Brio magic will transfer. It is part of the bond that comes with marriage.”
“Father’s magic is Brio?”
“Not entirely, but for the most part, yes,” said Trena, “the dormant magic within him was so slight that I can’t tell what line it comes from, but I believe the line is basically extinct.”
“Could you see us perform the spell?” I asked.
“You opened a connection to the ancient Brio magic embedded in this cave,” the Winged Lioness explained, “and I am intricately connected to that magic. Yes, I know exactly what happened.”
“How did we do that?”
“Keish has an innate talent for it,” said the Lioness, “However, even she needed more than one person to activate the spell. It is magic that belongs to the clan, so the clan as a whole usually activates it.”
“Keish, Imato, Father, and I don’t make the whole Brio clan,” I considered.
“If the need is great enough, you can represent them,” said Trena, “Ellean and Jezreel in their lifetimes became the core of the Brio line of magic. All magical lines need a core. Otherwise they will become too diluted. If a line splits and the core members of each branch work to keep the magic strong, one of those branches may separate and become a new line of magic with a new name. The core of Brio magic currently resides in you, Imato, Keish, and probably Liop. All branches off the main trunk will eventually become dormant as they get farther away.”
“We need Keish to tap into the line?”
“No, but her innate talent will make it easier,” said Trena, “You’re assuming hard rules, but magic doesn’t always have hard rules.”
This was too much information for me. I couldn’t process it. I decided to change the subject.
“Do you know that Father was lucid for a minute while the spell was being cast?”
“His memories are not lost, Arrietta,” said Trena, “They are locked. You were holding his hand when Keish drew on your magic, and you were able to transfer her spell to open a connection with Quin. It was what Imato needed. When he drew out Quin’s magic, he also drew some of the memories. Being Quin’s son helped.”
“Those were memories?” I asked, “He seemed to know what was going on…”
“Your Father was familiar with warding spells, even if he never performed one. Remember that under his command were other soldiers who could do magic. He worked closely with them.”
I nodded.
“What your Father said,” continued Trena, “is what he would have said, if he had actually been on the battlefield. It was the result of those memories.”
“But he’s the same as before now,” I said, “After the connection with Keish and Imato ended, I tried to pull him out again, by myself, but it didn’t work.”
“You might as well try to replace an iron chain with a bit of upholstery thread. It might hold for a minute, but it will break.”
“If I used many threads…”
“That would make a rope, still not as durable as chain,” concluded Trena, shifting restlessly.
“It’s not fair!” I said, “Why can Keish and Imato draw Father out and I can’t?”
“What they are doing will not cure him,” said Trena patiently.
“Magic is always easier for other people than it is for me,” I grumbled.
“It always will be,” said Trena, “because of your innate resilience to it. That doesn’t mean you can’t work powerful magic, only that you must work harder for it.”
“Why?” I demanded.
“I don’t know,” said Trena simply.
I kicked at the stone floor in frustration.
“Do you want to tell me about Gretel?” asked Trena.
“No,” I said bluntly, “I want to ask more questions.”
The Winged Lioness sighed and sat down.
“Do you know about what happened during the Princes’ Joust?” I asked.
“A little,” she said, “tell me what you know.”
I told her about the articles in the Gazette and Fly By and about how you and Beagan stopped Bradford.
“The King is going to knight Beagan,” I added, “It was announced two days ago.”
“Good for Beagan,” said Trena with a small purr, but her eyes remained troubled.
I went on to explain about the attempted burglaries and abduction of Father. It was clear that this information had not reached Trena. Her expression became very hard.
“So my question is,” I concluded, “Do you know what the Grestians want, what they’re looking for? Is it information?”
Trena shook her head uncertainly.
“I don’t know what they want. I will try to see,” she said and closed her eyes.
I waited. She took so long that I began to feel tired. I sat down on the floor and tried to study the tiny cracks and irregularities in the stone. I started to feel sleepy.
“Arrietta,” said Trena. My head jerked up, causing pain to shoot through it. I hadn’t really been asleep, but somewhat close to it.
“Did you see something?” I asked.
If anything, Trena’s agitation seemed to have increased. She stood and paced the floor, her eyes hard and troubled. I watched her, worried. Finally, she came to a stop.
“You must heal Quin,” she told me.
“I’ve been trying,” I began to protest, but stopped myself. “You saw me heal him?” I asked, hope shooting through me.
“No,” said Trena uncomfortably, “I saw what will happen if you don’t.”
“What?” I asked.
Trena shook her head at me. “You must heal him.”
“Is it related to what the Grestians are looking for? Did you see what it is?”
“Heal Quin first,” repeated Trena, “Then you can ask me more questions.” She shook her head slightly, “Of course, once you have healed him, you will have no more need to ask me anything.”
“But how can I heal him?” I asked, “I’ve tried so many times. I’ve done everything I can think of.”
“Everything?” asked Trena.
“What do you think I should do?” I asked.
Trena didn’t answer right away. She rustled her wings and continued her restless pacing, her eyes hard and worried.
“I will have to consider that more. A long time ago Alder and I tried to heal Guthrie. We failed, but that does not mean you can’t heal Quin. Arrietta, there will come a point where gathering information is just an excuse for delay.”
“Well, I’m not there yet,” I said in annoyance, “Master Grant and I are just getting started on the spells for casting wards on cells.”
“If this were a matter of a ward, it would be Imato’s task, not yours,” countered Trena.
“What if I can’t do it? What if Father really is like Guthrie?”
“I’m through with this conversation, Arrietta. You haven’t given up yet.” Her ears went back.
 “I’m sorry,” I said meekly. I was not accustomed to this mood in the Lioness.
“Will you tell me about Gretel yet?” Trena asked.
“One more question?” I asked.
“One,” she agreed.
“Is Nuicui tied to the canyon the way you’re tied to the Brio Caves?”
That startled her, but not in the way I expected. Her eyes widened and then narrowed sharply.
“How do you know about Nuicui?” she demanded.
I drew backwards, suddenly nervous.
“Banquo told me. He was talking about proving oneself and he mentioned that Nuicui couldn’t prove herself. It’s very sad. I just wondered about it…”
Trena studied me. Gradually, she relaxed.
“Nuicui isn’t tied to the canyon,” she said, “She is weaker than most lions and her health is delicate. The canyon is her home and she stays there to be near the protection of her family.”
“Is there a way for her to prove herself without risking her life?”
Trena smiled slightly, eyes softening, “Risk is part of life, Arrietta. We must all take it, if we are to become something better than we are now. We must be willing to sacrifice our weaknesses. If death comes in this process, it is not the end. We will continue in the next life.”
“I just wanted to help, if I could,” I said, “For Banquo. He helped me.”
Trena smiled, a real smile with a slight purr behind it: “Perhaps you will someday. Now, I’d really love to hear about Gretel.”

I returned from the caves to find Gretel waiting in my bedroom. She had a letter from you in her hands, unopened, which she turned over restlessly, her eyes intense.
“Mendel is in the parlor,” she said absently, “He wasn’t content with my explanation of things. Apparently, he’s never known you to miss a class before.”
“What did you tell him?” I asked.
“You’re sick,” said Gretel, “I figured you could clarify later, if you wanted.”
I really wanted to read the letter, but I thought that probably Mendel shouldn’t be kept waiting.
“Did you learn what you wanted from the Lioness?” asked Gretel.
I shrugged uncertainly.
“Yeah, I guess you better go deal with Mendel first,” Gretel frowned. She stood up and followed me downstairs.
“Arri, what happened to your head?” demanded Mendel the moment I stepped into the parlor. He leaped from the couch and darted toward me, coming to an abrupt halt a few feet away.
“I fell and bumped it yesterday,” I said slowly, “It’s not as bad as it looks.”
“Pretty hard if you missed class today,” said Mendel, “You’ve never missed a class before. I thought maybe you’d caught a dragon after all.”
“How do you know I’ve never missed class?” I asked.
“Have you ever missed class before?” asked Mendel.
“No,” I admitted.
“Well, that’s why I’m here,” said Mendel, folding his arms.
I glanced at Gretel. Your letter was beginning to look rumpled. She was fingering it distractedly.
“How about we just read Keish’s letter and get all our questions answered at once?” I asked.
Gretel smiled slightly and handed me the letter. I regretted my decision the moment I opened it and saw what you’d written at the top.
“What does that mean?” demanded Gretel, her voice rising.
“Imato’s fine,” I said quickly, “Did Uncle W. tell you anything?”
“He told me what you told him, which wasn’t much,” said Gretel, “I would have opened the letter, but I can’t. Keish has some kind of ward on it, or it might be part of the spell on the passenger pigeons.”
“Part of the spell on the pigeons,” said Mendel, studying the letter.
“Well, read it,” said Gretel.
I read your letter out loud, slowly. When we got to the part about Neàhman magic, Mendel offered Gretel his congratulations on having magic.
“Well, I’m not sure what good it does if I don’t know how to use it,” said Gretel, “And I don’t have much magic, far less than Keaton. I never had any magical outbursts as a child.”
“No worries about that,” said Mendel, “You’re surrounded by people who know magic-strengthening exercises. Fairy can teach you. She’s been going stir crazy without Arri to teach. It will be good for you both.”
Gretel and I looked at Mendel in surprise.
“I hadn’t thought of that,” said Gretel, “She could teach me, couldn’t she? Then I could help Imato with his research on the wards.”
We returned to reading your letter. Mendel turned bright red and said nothing during the parts about Gretel’s condition. It was really funny.
Then your letter got more serious. A couple of times I had to pause and remind Gretel that I knew Imato was fine. She grew pale and shaky toward the middle, but calmed down as you described your birthday party. I was glad you described it. We all needed to hear something nice. That was wonderful of King Menion to give you the necklace. It sounds beautiful. Mendel still says you should have been de-honored. He says he would like to be de-honored himself, but you can’t get any lower than “Master,” at least not to his knowledge.
“They use Serf in Neàhm,” suggested Gretel.
“Perfect,” said Mendel, “I was thinking of moving there anyway. I hear they let you dye your hair any color you wish.”

Gretel is very proud of Imato. She repeated the title Sorcerer Knight a few times, sounding it out. Mendel wants Imato to show him the Bellington ward when he gets back.
“It may come in handy,” he said brightly, “next time I go fishing.”
“Fishing?” asked Gretel, taking the bait.
“Mosquitos,” said Mendel, “Millions and millions of lethal mosquitos can now be killed with a single blow. Imagine the possibilities…”
Gretel was not amused.
We’re all happy to hear that you won’t have to deal with Lord/Master Salazar anymore. He may not have been the start of all the trouble, but he certainly deserves what he got for keeping it going. No one has learned anything more about Bradford or the documents that were intercepted.
Gretel says she is no less controlling than you are. After all, she doesn’t know how to force people to sit down and be quiet with a spell.

After we finished reading your letter, I thought everyone had a good explanation of what happened and that we should all go into the dining room for dinner, but Mendel and Gretel weren’t finished with me.
“So where were you today?” asked Mendel.
“Uncle W. brought me home and told me to get some sleep,” I said.
“You wouldn’t have put off reading that letter till now if you were here when it arrived,” Mendel said, looking a bit hurt, “and I’ve been here since I realized you were missing at lunch.”
Gretel frowned at him. Then she sighed.
“You may as well finish, Arri,” she said, “I want to hear what the Lioness had to say too.”
I sat back down, thinking.
“She gave me a long explanation about how Brio magic is like a tree and Keish, Imato, and I are like the trunk,” I said, “She wasn’t in a very good mood today.”
“I’m sorry,” said Gretel, “I guess she’s probably stressed out by everything the Grestians have been doing too.”
“And she said that I have to work harder to try and cure Father, that curing him is part of the solution to finding out what the Grestians are looking for,” I concluded.
“You’re working very hard already,” said Mendel, frowning.
I pulled a large pillow onto my lap and leaned into it. Mendel sat down next to me. I glanced at him. His blue eyes were large and serious.
“I’m going to meet with Master Grant in two days,” I said, “We haven’t really talked much about Father’s condition, but I’m going to ask him about it. He might have some ideas beyond what we’re already doing.”
“Yes, that’s a good idea,” said Gretel.

I spent the rest of the evening trying to catch up on homework and prepare for my classes.

February 24th
I talked with Master Grant this morning. He thinks we should finish what we started with the wards on cells and that I should take notes on anything that seems relevant to Father. He says if I think of a specific experiment that I would like to perform that he will be happy to help me. He also said that he would keep Father in mind as he worked and ask one of his friends who is an advanced medical student if he has any ideas.
We spent over an hour casting spells with our experiment. It was hard to create a ward small enough to contain a single cell. I could contain the entire petri dish, or a large group of cells, but the ward around one cell eluded me. Single cells could always slip past a ward. Magic could not enter or hold them. Groups of cells however were impacted the way you would expect. I noted that the wall around Father’s brain seems tied to individual cells. Any magic I perform would have to penetrate the cells membranes. Master Grant says all of this is significant.
“How?” I asked.
“Well,” he explained softly, “Your Father does not seem to be under any kind of spell. What if the spell were inside the cells? Ordinary magic would not be able to sense it, because ordinary magic cannot penetrate cells.”
It was a brilliant thought, but also discouraging.
“I need a spell that will penetrate cells,” I concluded.
“It’s only a hypothesis,” said Master Grant.

Catching up from two missed days of school has not been fun. I feel like I don’t have time to do anything except study. I sleep as little as I can possibly get away with. I’m doing the best I can, but definitely not as good as last term. Finals are less than two weeks away and I feel so unprepared.
Our final paper for College Writing is a group assignment.  The professor divided us into groups of three students each, except for me. Then he asked which of the groups would be willing to have a fourth. After a minute of looking around, Master Renwick raised his hand.
“I don’t think so…” began another student, but Master Renwick interrupted.
“How many in this group had to rewrite the Reilly essay?”
The students looked at each other while Master Renwick nodded.
“I think we should have at least one person on the team who can get an assignment right the first time,” he said firmly and waved me over.
Still, they were all reluctant to give me much to do when they divided up the assignment. I suppose I should be grateful since I’m overwhelmed with work anyway.

Your next letter came today. I wish I could take your idea to the Lioness, but I’m certain she would only repeat what she told me yesterday. I have to heal my father. I think we should also try to find the talisman. Father’s last battle was about a day’s journey north along the Grestian border from where Imato is currently stationed. Perhaps we can ask him to look, although it seems like looking for a needle in a haystack to try to find a small piece of twisted wire in the shape of a bird somewhere in the northern desert. It’s also possible that the talisman was melted down when the weapons left over from the battle were gathered up and sent to the forges in Marobury to be destroyed. Strictly speaking the law doesn’t require armor and chain mail to be melted down, but the metal is valuable so it often it, especially if it is damaged. Right now Imato and all the soldiers must be gathering the weapons of the Grestian army they defeated and arranging for shipment to Marobury.
It’s disappointing that Imato probably can’t create a Bellington ward again. It was terrible to watch the army defeated, but we didn’t lose anyone at all and that was wonderful.

I’m glad that Brynn will be back in town in a couple of weeks. It’s so nice that she was able to visit for your birthday. Everyone is saying that we’ve probably seen the worst of winter, although it is snowing slightly as I say this. Liop is full of plans for what he wants to do with Keaton when he comes to visit. Sometimes I wonder if we should just rent them a room in the science museum and put a bed in it; I think Liop is virtually planning to live there for the week.
I hope everything is going well with school and everything. Give Uncle Adlen and everyone my love.

Love,
Arri

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