Page 25 of The Sorcerer's Thief
As I watch Cricket while he watches the flame, my first time conjuring fire comes to me as if it were yesterday.
A dark room, smelling damp and musty. Fear in my heart. Hunger pains in my belly. Much like Cricket, I was surprised a flame came to me at all.
Surprised and grateful.
“What are you thinking so hard about?” he asks.
I glance up. That memory is old, no longer relevant, and I don’t wish to share it.
But I’m willing to share another.
“Fire is often the first element a child learns to call, though that wasn’t the case with me.”
“What element did you summon?”
“Water came first, albeit in the form of ice. I made spheres to play with, rolling them around with a stray cat I’d befriended. She seemed to like them as much as I, but she was the only one impressed with my newfound skill.”
“Your parents didn’t care?”
“No parents, only an uncle. And he cared, all right, just not in the way I’d hoped.” Everyone down to the palace staff was horrified I’d conjured ice so young, so easily, and without the guidance of a tutor.
Hide this skill, he’d whispered harshly.I won’t have you growing up to be like me. Make toys of wood and cloth like other children and leave the ice to melt.
I didn’t understand then. In a way, I still don’t, and yet I do. A shiver tremors through me, though it’s not an overly chilly evening.
“He sounds rotten,” says Cricket.
The flame circles from his hand to mine and back.
“For a long time, I thought he was.” I don’t know what to think now in light of current events. But I’d rather Cricket be the one talking than me. “And what of your family? Are you eager to be reunited with them?”
His gaze shifts to the fire. “Don’t want to talk about it.”
There goes that idea. An uncomfortable sadness settles in. For Cricket. For myself. I don’t relish the sensation.
With a thought, I coax his flame to me and grow it. The color changes to a beautiful burnt orange. It crackles and pops with new energy. “You won’t always need to speak to it aloud. Settle your mind, direct your thoughts, and take it back from me.”
“Settle my mind, eh?” He chuckles. “Just like that.”
So we have something in common after all. “Try it. If you can’t, we can practice again another time.”
“All right.” He closes his eyes and takes three slow breaths. When he opens them, determination shines in both irises. He whispers, “So big now. So strong. Look at you. Come and let me see for myself.”
The swirling fireball moves from my hand to his, frolicking as though it enjoys the praise. Perhaps it does. We know very littleabout fire when you think about it. Though a flame may come when called, though it may do a mage’s bidding, fire roars with its own life.
Its own secrets. Beauty, heat, and destruction, all-consuming, leaving only ash and cinder in its wake.
“Continue to show respect as you do, and fire will always be there when you need it.”
“Oh, yeah?” says Cricket. “Then it will have been the first.”
I take his hand in both of mine and show off a bit. Can’t help myself. And he’s such a good audience, enthralled as I coax the fire into feats of acrobatics even street tumblers would be hard-pressed to mimic.
“You’re quite skilled at that.” He indulges me with a crooked smile.
“Lot of practice. In time, you can learn this too. But for now, one more lesson.”
“What’s that?”
