Page 19 of Desire

The book suggested that, to determine the energy use, I’d need to check the well before and after the cast. How did one check the energy within their well, though? It wasn’t as if I could drop a rock and count the seconds.

It went on to recommend that I visualize a scale and compare the energy consumed by the different spells I previously learned—such as warming the water, checking the weather, and lighting a candle—to determine a baseline cost.

Frustrated, I looked up from the book.

“Magic and men are the same. Both are too troublesome. What point is there in attempting to understand either?”

I rose and paced across the room as I continued to read. The book warned that the next spell, cast on herbs to aid with quicker healing, might be too taxing for beginners.

Pausing, I glanced at the cellar door and thought of the herbs Henry had stored away below. The same ones that were called for in the spell.

Casting to warm water had seemed harmless enough. After all, if something went awry, only the water would be affected. But if something went wrong with the herbs, the person ingesting them could be affected.

Someone knocked on the door.

“Kellen?” Garron called. “We made some soup if you’re hungry.”

I opened the door, surprising him.

“How much do you know about magic?” I asked.

“A fair amount,” he said. “It’s something Henry had us study.”

“There’s a spell here about enhancing herbs for healing.” I pointed to it in the book. “Is it dangerous? If I cast it wrong, could something bad happen to the person who drinks it?”

“No. Either the spell works as it’s intended, or it doesn’t work at all.”

“Can I try?”

“Of course.”

I turned away without closing the door and raced down to the cellar. Henry had all the herbs and the required beeswax candle. I bundled everything in my tunic and carried it up the ladder. The spell was a bit tedious, requiring me to boil the water using the candle wrapped with a strand of the caster’s hair. Once the water boiled, I added the herbs in the correct measurements and waited for it to cool.

The resulting brew smelled unpleasant—bitter and a bit rancid. I made a face and reread the notes in the book.

“If it smells awful, it’s correct,” Brandle said.

I looked up from the spell and realized they were all standing in the doorway.

“Worse than awful,” I said. “It will likely make a person vomit.”

“Then Eadric should try it first,” Daemon said. “We’re owed.”

Eadric grinned. “Bring me the brew, Sparrow. I’m ready to walk without a limp.”

I poured a cup, watching the herbs swirl and settle to the bottom.

“You won’t hurt us, Kitten,” Brandle said.

Not hurt him? Was he not paying attention?

Frustration spiked along with the wish for someone to cuff him.

The book that had been resting on the table flew across the space and hit him squarely in the chest. I wasn’t as stunned aspreviously and took a moment to feel my connection with the book and how much energy it had. It felt the same.

I quickly checked the well, but it felt securely closed off. How, then, was I doing that?

“Open your damned eyes, Brandle,” I said. “I just threw a book at you and have no idea how. I am barely in control and able to do things the book I’m reading does not mention. So, yes, Icanhurt you. Stop being a fool.”

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