household. My Salamanders are perfectly free to clean up after Air Work, and your Sylphs are permitted to clean up after Works of Fire. They will even enjoy doing so. Here-'
He handed her a cup of restorative tea, and she drank it down, thankfully. Her exhaustion was largely a matter of nerve and emotion-the effects of reaction after having successfully completed what really had been a dangerous task. In a moment or two, she would feel better.
But for right now, I believe I would really prefer to sit here on the couch!
Finally, after fifteen or twenty minutes, her nerves felt steady again, and her hands had stopped shaking. In all that time, Jason had not said a word. He simply sat in his chair and watched her carefully, as if he was studying her. Perhaps he was; after all, he was a Master, and it was part of his obligation to be aware of the mental, physical, and emotional state of his Apprentice.
'Did this happen to you?' she demanded.
He evidently understood precisely what she meant. 'The reaction? Of course. But I am curious about something.' He leaned forward, and focused on her intently. 'When you became comfortable with your role-when you were thinking about nothing except the work, how did it feel to you?'
'How did it feel?' she repeated. It felt wonderful, but how do I describe that? 'It felt-I'm not certain. I think I must have felt the way an opera singer feels, when everything comes together in a perfect performance. As if I was born to do this, as if nothing in the world was more natural or right for me. There was a joy, a feelings of completion, a feeling of coming home-' She shook her head. 'All that, and more. I can't describe it properly.'
He sat back, and there was no mistaking the satisfaction in his eyes. 'You don't have to. This was something du Mond never felt, and I should have known then that there was something wrong with him. The true Magician, the one who is born to it, comes to his work with pleasure, and not as if it is work. I suspect this must be the case with anyone who is doing what he is truly suited to, whether he be a Magician or a singer, a poet or a priest, or even a plumber. You had that joy about you; this is what you were born to do.'
So he has felt the same way! She had thought perhaps that the feeling had been chimerical-or even simply the effect of her own imagination.
'You won't always have so pure an experience,' he warned. 'No singer has a perfect performance every night, after all. But some of that joy will always be there for you, reminding you of the moments when it does all come together into a perfect whole.' He sighed wistfully. 'The only other time I have ever felt that perfection was when I was riding Sunset. Now, I dare not go near him, for fear that I'll frighten him.'
She put down her cup and got to her feet, extending her hand to him. 'That reminds me-I have something I would like to show you,' she told him. 'That is, if you think we have time for a brief stroll outside.'
'Outside?' He hesitated for a moment, then shrugged, and stood up. 'Well, why not? After all, there's no one here to see me, is there?'
'Precisely.' She said nothing more, but simply led him down the stairs to the side door-the one leading to the stables. He followed her as far as the walk, then stopped when he realized that she was heading towards Sunset's paddock.
'We can't go there-' he protested.
She stopped, and turned around to face him. She had not put her hair up after the encounter with the Sylph, and the wind flirted with it. 'I have been doing other reading,' she said, 'but as a horseman, you can probably confirm what I read. Just how good is a horse's eyesight?'
'Not very,' he admitted. 'They tend to rely as much on scent and sound as on sight. That is one reason why they are so prone to shying at things they don't expect. They can sense movement very well, but they have to stare fixedly at something they don't recognize in order to identify it.'
'And are you afraid that you would frighten Sunset because of the way you look-or because your scent has changed?'
'The latter,' he said, puzzled. 'But-'
'But I have had your Salamander bring me your shirts for the past month and more, and I have been leaving them overnight in Sunset's stall to familiarize him with your new scent!' she said triumphantly. 'He was a bit alarmed at first, but evidently there was enough of the old 'you' in the new scent to reassure him. Now he is quite used to it. Won't you please at least try to see if he'll accept you?' she begged shamelessly, looking up into his troubled eyes. 'He misses you so much-and I am simply no real substitute for you. Even the company of poor old Brownie is not enough to make up for your loss.'
He looked away for a moment, and she sensed he was struggling with himself. She continued with arguments she had rehearsed almost as many times as the apologetic speech she had not had a chance to deliver. 'Du Mond told me that he was a gift from another Firemaster, and although I have not had a great deal of experience with horses, it seems to me that he is truly quite out of the ordinary. Given that, don't you think you ought to give him the chance to prove he can tolerate more than any other horse you might have owned?'
'Perhaps,' he murmured, but he did not sound convinced.
