3rd Searing, 123
It had been months since he had first heard the Magus humming a song that had brought back to him memories of the songs his mother had given to him in his extreme youth. When they had remained in the first place he had known. In the darkness and safety of that first existence, her voice had been his only touchstone, it had been the voice of god, the only thing that was real. He did not think of that time, and, in fact, it was often difficult to recall it, not only for how young he had been, but because, without the ability to see, and with stimulation for his other sense so limited, it was a struggle to even form cohesive recollections from what remained.
He had slept, that first night he had given pleasure as well as gaining it, deeply and without waking. This, in itself, was a rare gift and had cemented many of the connection points which had begun to grow inside him where the Magus was concerned. In the months since then, he had gone about even the parts of his assigned work that he considered of less interest with an intent zeal and, unexpectedly, a deeper level of self-reflection.
While he had recognized that he had spent his first year of freedom mostly in fear of discovery, he now realized he had also spent it in a lessened state of consciousness. Animalistic, perhaps, not allowing himself to fully become himself, knowing that, should he be recaptured after he had stretched out into his greater potential, it would kill him. Now he had some safeguards, and while Ilex still loomed massive in his psyche, logically he knew that Aurin was more powerful. At least, personally. Ilex might be able to request the aid of armies, should he desire, but he trusted that Aurin would come to take him back, should he be taken now. To receive the full return on his investment, if for no other reason.
There were other reasons now, Rivin felt. He had the man's interest, and was of use to him, and those were good things, if also, possibly, dangerous. That danger no longer worried him, even if he told himself it should. In truth, it excited him. Aside from that, the new freedom of self that he was growing into allowed him to see what things he actually wanted, where he wanted his life to go and what he wished to gain from it. Studying on both his new sense of self and what desires it held had been a long process, but fulfilling, and he had come out of it with three conclusions he could be sure of.
First, he wanted Traversion.
For whatever reason, of all the magics the Magus possessed, or even others, this was what he wanted and he wanted it with an intense sort of passion that he could not properly leash, so he did not try.
Second, he wanted to learn what he could of his own people, and more specifically, their dead language. Perhaps it would lead him to understanding where his mother had come from, but, even if it did not, he wanted it.
Thirdly, he wanted to be bound to his Magus in some way more tangible than that of simply an employee. It was no romantic idea and had nothing to do with the courtesan training he was receiving. He wanted to know that while he was bound, so too was Aurin, in a way, to him. He did not believe that anything Ilex could devise to either find him or keep him could not be overturned by Aurin, and if he could ensure their compact was concrete, he would be safe.
For this, he would give up much. For any of the three he would give up much, but this last would allow him to concentrate his energy on the others. If he was lucky and clever he might be able to use the last as payment for the other two, or at least one of them. What the other would cost him was something he was willing to discover as he went.
They met on the rooftops, as they sometimes did, chasing each other, or the wind, or some actual quarry. The Magus was not physically quite as good at the game as Rivin, but he had his tricks too, so he always won. This was not upsetting, in fact, it felt right.
When they had come to a halt for a time, he stepped closer, feeling the chill of the wind as the redhead never did, wrapped as he was in his magic cloak.
"I have requests, Magus, and an offering to pay for them with, if you will listen." He was still formal, but it was, in itself, sort of a game between them. Not a contest, a familiarity.
It had been months since he had first heard the Magus humming a song that had brought back to him memories of the songs his mother had given to him in his extreme youth. When they had remained in the first place he had known. In the darkness and safety of that first existence, her voice had been his only touchstone, it had been the voice of god, the only thing that was real. He did not think of that time, and, in fact, it was often difficult to recall it, not only for how young he had been, but because, without the ability to see, and with stimulation for his other sense so limited, it was a struggle to even form cohesive recollections from what remained.
He had slept, that first night he had given pleasure as well as gaining it, deeply and without waking. This, in itself, was a rare gift and had cemented many of the connection points which had begun to grow inside him where the Magus was concerned. In the months since then, he had gone about even the parts of his assigned work that he considered of less interest with an intent zeal and, unexpectedly, a deeper level of self-reflection.
While he had recognized that he had spent his first year of freedom mostly in fear of discovery, he now realized he had also spent it in a lessened state of consciousness. Animalistic, perhaps, not allowing himself to fully become himself, knowing that, should he be recaptured after he had stretched out into his greater potential, it would kill him. Now he had some safeguards, and while Ilex still loomed massive in his psyche, logically he knew that Aurin was more powerful. At least, personally. Ilex might be able to request the aid of armies, should he desire, but he trusted that Aurin would come to take him back, should he be taken now. To receive the full return on his investment, if for no other reason.
There were other reasons now, Rivin felt. He had the man's interest, and was of use to him, and those were good things, if also, possibly, dangerous. That danger no longer worried him, even if he told himself it should. In truth, it excited him. Aside from that, the new freedom of self that he was growing into allowed him to see what things he actually wanted, where he wanted his life to go and what he wished to gain from it. Studying on both his new sense of self and what desires it held had been a long process, but fulfilling, and he had come out of it with three conclusions he could be sure of.
First, he wanted Traversion.
For whatever reason, of all the magics the Magus possessed, or even others, this was what he wanted and he wanted it with an intense sort of passion that he could not properly leash, so he did not try.
Second, he wanted to learn what he could of his own people, and more specifically, their dead language. Perhaps it would lead him to understanding where his mother had come from, but, even if it did not, he wanted it.
Thirdly, he wanted to be bound to his Magus in some way more tangible than that of simply an employee. It was no romantic idea and had nothing to do with the courtesan training he was receiving. He wanted to know that while he was bound, so too was Aurin, in a way, to him. He did not believe that anything Ilex could devise to either find him or keep him could not be overturned by Aurin, and if he could ensure their compact was concrete, he would be safe.
For this, he would give up much. For any of the three he would give up much, but this last would allow him to concentrate his energy on the others. If he was lucky and clever he might be able to use the last as payment for the other two, or at least one of them. What the other would cost him was something he was willing to discover as he went.
They met on the rooftops, as they sometimes did, chasing each other, or the wind, or some actual quarry. The Magus was not physically quite as good at the game as Rivin, but he had his tricks too, so he always won. This was not upsetting, in fact, it felt right.
When they had come to a halt for a time, he stepped closer, feeling the chill of the wind as the redhead never did, wrapped as he was in his magic cloak.
"I have requests, Magus, and an offering to pay for them with, if you will listen." He was still formal, but it was, in itself, sort of a game between them. Not a contest, a familiarity.
