Page 11 of To Hunt a Ruby Remedy

“I will gladly cook while I am here. Just let me know if I’m ruining your concentration.”

“I’ll manage.”

We fell silent again. I didn’t know what Ranulf was thinking, but dozens of questions about the node and charms and magic swirled through my head. I knew only the most basic facts about magic and wanted to ask everything. I opened my mouth, then realized that bombarding Ranulf with my questions was a surefire way to ruin the slice of harmony we had found.

I took a bite of bread instead of talking. When I finished chewing, another question nearly popped out before I caught myself. I shoved a spoonful of soup into my mouth.

Across from me, Ranulf’s shoulders shook. “Is it really that hard for you to not talk?”

I pressed my lips together and nodded.

“Go ahead. Say whatever it is.”

“You make charms and enchantments to sell in Wulfkin, right?”

“Yes.”

“And the enchantments are limited in what they can do?”

“Yes.”

“Why make both?”

“They serve different purposes.”

I studied my mostly eaten meal. Ranulf had invited me to speak, but he wasn’t one to satisfy my curiosity. My questions probably sounded pointless to him.

I heard the clack of his spoon as he set it on the table. I peeked through my eyelashes and found Ranulf studying me.

“Most mages with active powers don’t make charms.” He rested his elbows on the table and laced his fingers together. “If a weather-changer made a charm, for example, it would cause a disaster. A charm, by definition, is a constant stream of mage-power. So, a weather-changing charm would bring on torrential rain, a never-ending windstorm, or drought. It does too much.”

“But an enchantment only calls on the power when activated.” I said.

“Exactly. It would take numerous enchantments to do what one charm can do, but they are controllable. Healing is somewhat unique among active powers. A charm will seek to heal the body touching it. If there isn’t bleeding to stop, then the power will knit a broken bone together without consequences. But it isn’t efficient. When a healer actively uses their magic, they direct the flow, targeting the injury. A charm can’t do that. It takes a much stronger charm, therefore, to accomplish the same feat.”

“Then why make a charm for my mother? Rosalia insisted I bring the glass cube to make the charm more powerful, but wouldn’t an enchantment be better?”

“Rosalia was right that you want the charm to be as powerful as possible. Cubes resonate with healing magic, making them better than the basic sphere. A gemstone is even better than glass, though. The reason to use a charm instead of an enchantment in your mother’s case is the consumption of power. I could make an enchantment that targets the tumor in her brain, and it would use less power to keep the growth in check than a charm. But an enchantment can only store so much power.”

I leaned forward. “What does that mean?”

The school in my village barely taught the basics of mage-powers. I knew more about the gods and goddesses associated with each power than how they were used. The practical applications were far more fascinating than the theological associations. I wanted to understand. For a moment, I even forgot that we were discussing the magic necessary to keep my mother healthy.

Ranulf cleared his throat and shifted his gaze over my shoulder. “Used non-stop, an enchantment will run out in no time. A charm stores power differently. The amount used to make it determines how long the charm will last, but once it is made, it uses that full amount of power the entire time. It doesn’t matter if the charm only treats a single bruise or heals dozens of broken bones. It has power for a certain length of time.”

“How long will a charm last?” I remembered that we weren’t discussing theory, but my mother’s life. Rosalia had said her charm would last a month. How much longer would a charm made with the power of a node last? And what would I do when it inevitably failed?

“Depends. Most mages can make charms that last a few weeks, maybe up to two months. The ones you brought to Wulfkin for me will each last about three months. The one I’m making for your mother should last years. I’ll have a better sense of exactly how long when I finish.”

Years. So long, and yet, not long enough. My mother wasn’t even fifty. A few years from now, how would we afford a replacement? I couldn’t keep returning to this cottage expecting charity.

I fell quiet again. My curiosity quashed under a wave of worry. Ranulf opened his mouth at one point, but then closed it again without breaking the silence. He finished his meal and carried his dishes to the sink.

He pumped water into the sink. “Too bad we don’t have anything for dessert. I should have picked some berries while I was out today.”

I brought my own dishes to the sink and tried to nudge him to the side, but he didn’t move. If he wouldn’t let me clean, then I’d have to focus on what he would let me do. “Berries? I can go foraging tomorrow. I could make a fruit pie.”

His lips barely moved, but the light in his eyes was as good as a grin. “I know a terrific blackberry patch. I’ll show you tomorrow.”

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