The Hour of the Crow

Chapter 16: The Basics of Magic

Arran's shoulders visibly slumped, but he bowed deep before the Shah. Inna did the same. "Thank you, Your Majesty," she said.

The servant stepped forward and motioned them to follow her. Inna watched her long, brown braid swing back and forth while she led them further up the winding stairs, to the uppermost floors of the tower. A warm hand landed on her lower back and she turned her head to look at Arran, startling at the proximity of his face. The fingers of his free hand tugged at a loose strand of her hair.

"How did you change your appearance when the Shah asked you about it?" he asked in a low voice, so that the servant—Mehrdag—wouldn't hear it. He brought his mouth so close to her ear that his breath tickled the tender skin there. "Was it some kind of glamouring magic?"

She laughed quietly. "Oh no, I didn't use any magic at all." He looked puzzled, so she explained, "As long as you sound convincing enough, you can make anyone believe anything that comes out of your mouth, even if their eyes tell them otherwise."

Wow, he mouthed. Then, "You really are a consummate manipulator, aren't you?"

She grinned. "It's my way of making up for my inability to use any form of subtle magic." Tilting her head, she studied his face, slightly more relaxed than it had been in the throne room. "Though, now that I think about it, you and I appear to be compatible in that aspect."

His eyebrows drew together. "You still haven't explained what you mean by that."

"Haven't I? Well, I did promise to teach you magic, didn't I?" He nodded, his eyes lighting up with sudden eagerness. It was adorable, in a fashion. "How about tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow?" He blinked. "Uhm, yes, sure."

"It's a date, then."

He smiled. "I'm looking forward to it."

"Me too," she replied. "But I must warn you: I'm a demanding teacher. Be prepared to get your ass kicked."

His smile froze on his lips.

***

Dawn arrived with a fierce sun and an almost singing atmosphere in the air, an omen of the upcoming desert heat. It would be a day to spend indoors, fanning for a hint of coolness, if one wanted to avoid scorching their skin. Still, Inna greeted the morning with a certain optimism, glad for the few hours of peace she still had left in the open air. She had risen early to claim a spot in the Tower's courtyard where she and Arran would have sufficient space to practice magic.

Arran, however, had not yet escaped the compelling grip of his exhaustion. His bloodshot eyes, a remembrance of last night's flowing supply of wine, contrasted with the pallor of his face. He jammed his palm across his mouth to stifle a yawn, though he had the decency to look sheepish about it.

Zazi hissed a few words of encouragement at him from her spot on a wooden bench, even though she knew he could not understand her.

"You look like you had a rough night," Inna stated dryly. "Is the bed in your room that terrible, or did a lovely lady keep you awake all night?"

He groaned. "Neither. I'm just not a morning person."

Instead of scolding him for it, she eyed the bucket of water at her feet, which she had brought from inside. With a simple gesture of her hand, a small stream of water levitated into the air and splashed into Arran's face. Startled, he stumbled backward, wiping his face.

"Habi Onshra!" he cried out. A wet lock of hair trickled drops of water onto his cheeks. "That's one way of waking a person up."

She smirked. "Now that I have your attention, I'd like to start with today's lesson. Would that be all right for you, Mister Dir Akhta, or do you need more motivation?" He curled his hand into an offensive gesture and she laughed out loud. "Good. Let's start with what you know already. When did you first break through the Vahja?"