Armand’s First Letter. Amelia’s First Letter.
The Abyss, off Provençe
19 October 1017
Dear Journal,
It took longer for us to begin our voyage home than I had hoped; and yet I find that the delay was worth it.
Of our time in Yorke there is little to be said. Much of it was spent helping Mama pack her belongings: both more than I would wish and less than she believes she will need. I wished to draw the line at her maid, Roman, but was compelled to give in; for I am certain that Mama would simply have packed Roman into yet another trunk, only to have her emerge when we were out into the Abyss. I thought it better to spare the poor girl the indignity.
Roman had never come to my notice until now, for she was brought to Norwich Street after I ran away to Armorica; and on my return trips she was simply Mama’s maid, and rather out of my sight. But she seems a quiet, sensible girl.
I had occasion to warn her against too much fraternization with the crew, and she said, “Bless you sir, I know what young men are. Stick to your mum like glue, I will.” And so, so far, she has.
We stopped at L’École du Sorciers in Toulouse, as planned, expecting to remain only over night, and yet here we lost two entire days. It is not that there was much need for Amelia and her crew to consult with me; having given them my findings about the King Guy’s Fundament, I had little else to offer. No.
In point of fact, it was Jérôme Lavigne who lengthened our stay. He spoke to me the evening we arrived, after dinner, and said, “Armand, I wish to come with you to Armorica and learn about le Fleuve de Belazel.” By which he meant, of course, the craft of forming.
I was quite taken aback. I believe I stammered a bit, and said, finally, “But wouldn’t it be easier for you to learn here in Toulouse? The Provençese Former’s Guild is quite active.”
“Bah. They will tell me nothing. There is animus of long standing between les sorciers and les thaumaturges, for I fear we have always treated them with disdain. They would not even listen to my request.” He shrugged most expressively. “Nor do they have your exploratory spirit,” he said, “as I know well from your stories, for the one master from whom I might have learned much came to Armorica and died there, non?”
“Oh,” I said. “Um,” I said. “Well,” I said. “Let me sleep on it,” I said.
We met for breakfast, and by the time we sat down together, the reasons for my unease were clear in my mind.
“Jérôme, on the face of it nothing could be simpler than to grant your request. You return to Armorica with us, remain with us for a season or a year or what have you, until you have learned all you can hold; and then I send you back to Toulouse on the Amelie. But it is not that simple.”
He said nothing, looking at me over the croissant he was buttering as he waited politely for me to go on.
I grimaced. “I can explain it in two words: guild law.”
His eyebrows rose.
“I am bound by guild law,” I said, “not to reveal the secrets of the craft to anyone who is not a member of the guild. It is that simple. For me to do as you ask you would need to join the Former’s Guild; and then you yourself would be subject to guild law in turn. Do you see? You might learn all that wish, but you would be unable to pass your new learning along to your colleagues here at L’École.”
He nodded, acknowledging the point.
“Further, it is by no means certain that you will be able to learn to practice the craft. Not everyone is capable. There are certain tests I can give you, to see how likely it is; but I should hate you to come with us only to find you have no talent for the work.”
“And then?” he said.
“And then,” I shrugged ruefully, “I would spare you the indignity of signing indentures as my apprentice. In guild terms, you are a journeyman on the verge of mastery. To have you subject to me as an apprentice is subject would be most embarrassing.”
“That is as it may be,” he said, “but still I wish to learn—and once I have learned your craft, there are many things I might discern about the mingling of les thaumaturgie avec les sorcerie. And these would not be secrets of your craft, n’est-ce pas?”
He had a point. I made to speak, but he raised a hand to forestall me.
“Come, ” he said. “You, as you are so concerned for my dignity, you shall find a way to bring me into your guild that spares it.” He nodded at me. “And I, I shall bind myself to allow you to determine what things are secrets of les thaumaturgie, and what things are not.”
It is an unprecedented circumstance, but after much discussion we have worked out the following agreement.
First, Jérôme will bind himself in obedience to me in all matters relating to the craft. Second, he is not under indentures; he will not be subject to me in any other matter, and he may leave my service at any time. Third, any forming work he does during this odd sort of apprenticeship will belong to the guild, as recompense for his training. Fourth, he will be responsible for his own room and board.
“In short,” I said, “Your forming work is mine until and unless you reach journeyman rank in the guild; you will remain bound to obedience to me regarding the craft until and unless you reach your mastery in the guild; and you will be subject to guild law ever after.”
“Very well,” he said. “And now, allons y!”
And then, of course, he had to get approval from the masters of L’École I believe that Dr. Laguerre was somewhat discommoded, he being one of her students, but in time he won his point.
Blessedly, Amelia and Maximilian took charge of Mama during this interval, and showed her the sights of Toulouse; which, she says, she enjoyed more than she had thought to.
And now here we are, flying smoothly through the Abyss on our way to Armorica. It is fortunate that the good packet Amelie has room for passengers, or else I fear we should grow quite cramped.
____
Photo by Conor Brown on Unsplash
Zymurgia House 