With a flap of my wings, I shot upward, leaving the hedges and trees of the garden behind. Flying wasn’t effortless. My arms felt the strain of each wingbeat. But it was glorious, taking to the sky. Instead of heading directly to the tower, I circled the courtyard, testing the air. Up high, I could glide, sailing on thecurrent in larger and larger loops. The wind rushing by felt like a caress.
Another falcon tailed me, swooping to one side and then another. Ronan, of course. Probably herding me toward the tower. I wondered if he ever turned into a bird and flew just for the pure joy of it. Finally, I sailed over the crenelations and perched on the edge of one of the barrels.
Ronan glided past me. He transformed into human before landing on the ground, effortlessly transitioning to his legs.
I repeated the incantation to change back. Nothing happened. Ronan strolled over to me. “Are you trying to transform and can’t or did you enjoy being a bird so much you’re hoping I won’t make you give it up quite yet?”
I ruffled my feathers and squawked.
“Very well,” he said. “I’ll help you. Transforming, like all else, takes practice.”
I became myself again, now standing precariously on the barrel. I put my hands on his shoulders. He encircled my waist and set me on the floor.
“Becoming a falcon was your doing,” I said, “not mine.”
“That’s part of practicing. But now that you know how to be a bird, you’ll find it easier to become one again. I wager that soon when you say the spell, the transformation works.”
He must have seen the eagerness in my eyes because he added, “Don’t try it presently. I’ve something to show you and if you take to the sky again, who knows how long you’ll be up there soaring around.”
He towed me to the middle of the floor where a small table and two stools waited. Five tiny scrolls lay in the middle of the table.
“What’s this?” I asked.
He swept his hand toward the closest stool. “Look at them and see.”
I took my place on the stool and picked up one of the scrolls. “Is this more practice? Are these enchantments I’m to perform?” I unwrapped the scroll. The word Amaranth was written in Ronan’s hand.
I stared at him in question.
“Do you know what it means?” he asked.
“No.”
“Are you sure? I can’t help you. That’s part of the rules.”
“What rules?” I was already searching books for the word. A few, very conveniently, had glossaries of terms.
“The mage rules,” Ronan said.
I located the word’s definition. “Amaranth is a flower that never fades.”
“Correct. Read the other scrolls.”
Was it a list of items needed for some spell? I’d no idea where to find an Amaranth. The glossaries didn’t tell locations.
The next word was Lucerna. I knew the meaning of that one: light. I unrolled Flagrantitelum, Astrid, and Magasclades. Some checking of glossaries turned up the definition ‘passionate weapon’ for the first and ‘beautiful and loved’ for the second. I couldn’t find a definition for Magasclades.
I laid the parchments in front of me and cocked my head. “My first lesson as a mage is a vocabulary test?”
“This isn’t a lesson. It’s the ceremony where you choose your mage name.”
My eyes flew to his, remembering what he’d told me. A mage’s teachers presented him with five possibilities. Two represented his charitable qualities, two his cunning ones, and one name was a nonsense word thrown in to test his knowledge of wizarding vocabulary.
I smoothed out the word Magasclades. “This must be one of my negative qualities. Does it mean ‘she who holds grudges’?”
He laughed. “I can’t tell you until after you choose.”
It took me several long minutes to dredge through texts to find that the word meant mage toppler.