After we left the training hall, Randall helped us dry off with a warming spell. Now that he was no longer terrified of Meka’s mana, he managed it without setting her on fire, which felt like progress worth acknowledging.

  I looked at him sidelong and asked, “What now? Are you going to try listening to me about teaching?”

  “Oh, gods no,” Randall said immediately. “I told you already, I did not agree to that.”

  I stopped walking and stared at him, frustration tightening in my chest.

  Randall shook his head and lifted his hands defensively. “Listen. I cannot convince them to let you do something like this. I do not have the political capital in the guild to squander it on a stunt that” he said. “I will, however, ask you for suggestions. That much I can manage without getting myself buried.”

  Meka looked between us and asked, “Do I have to go back to his class now?” She pointed at Randall with clear apprehension.

  I pointed at him as well. “That is a very good question. I really hope not.”

  “No,” Randall said. “She is technically in my class. But Greta is watching her.” He paused, then added, “And by Greta, I mean you.”

  I sighed. “That tracks.”

  I hesitated, then said, “Actually, that raises a question. Where is your class right now?”

  “Oh,” Randall said, waving a hand vaguely. “They are learning some of the casting methods used by the Healers’ Guild, with Instructor Lamb.”

  “Oh,” I said. “Is that the woman who grabbed Devon”

  Randall looked at me face uncomprehending. "I have no idea who you are talking about.”

  “That is fair.” I nodded.

  “There is a unique way healers shape mana,” I said.

  Randall nodded. “I understand why they would want the students to observe. Someone with water mana, or light, or even dark, might learn something useful just by watching.”

  I glanced at him. “They do not consider using fire?”

  He looked genuinely confused. “No. Why would they? Fire is only good for burning.”

  I slapped my own face hard enough that I nearly lost my balance.

  “Those backwards idiots,” I muttered. Then, louder, “Fire can do far more than harm. Even in its most basic form, it can cauterize wounds. Controlled warmth can stabilize someone suffering from exposure. You can regulate body temperature, sterilize tools, stimulate circulation. Destruction is only one expression of it.”

  Randall stared at me for a moment, then shrugged. “I will have to take your word on that. I only know the destructive side of pyromancy.”

  I studied him as we resumed walking. “You seem calmer,” I said.

  “I am,” he replied without hesitation. “This experience clarified something for me. I thought it was just part of my personality, some unpleasant quirk. It was fear. A very specific one.” He glanced down at Meka. “Thanks to you, I will be able to… well, I am not sure what I will be able to do yet. But I do not feel the need to call her Beast anymore.”

  I nodded. “That is a start.”

  Meka looked up at him. “Yeah. I do not like that name.”

  “I understand why,” Randall said quietly. “I am sorry.”

  I muttered quietly. "It would be nice if everyone stopped calling me Runt... but this isn't about me."

  He cleared his throat and straightened. “Anyway, you two. I have most of the day off. I am going to prepare my luggage for my extended visit with my sister.” He paused, then smiled faintly. “When I come back, I will bring her with me. You may have a new companion.”

  He considered that, then added, “She will probably hate you. She hates almost everyone but me, which I find comforting.”

  Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.

  I laughed despite myself. “All right.”

  Randall waved once, already turning away. “I will see you when I get back,” he said, and then he was gone, footsteps fading as he headed off to prepare for his trip.

  The quiet settled in his absence.

  Meka walked a few steps beside me before looking up. “I thought you liked it when people called you Runt,” she said, genuine confusion in her voice. “I thought it was your thing.”

  I did not answer right away.

  Honestly, I did. It had started growing on me, in that way unwanted things sometimes did when you lived with them long enough. The thought stayed where it belonged, inside my head.

  Out loud, I only shrugged. “It’s fine,” I said. “You can call me whatever you want. Names don’t harm me.”

  Meka accepted that without question, already moving on.

  I sighed and let the subject drop. She did not see the irony in it, and there was no point forcing it. Once a dwarf like Winnie gave you a name, it was never going away.

  That name would stick for as long as Winnie did.

  I fully intended to make sure Winnie stuck around for a very long time.

  “Meka,” I said after a moment, “why are you actually here?”

  She looked at me, surprised, and I realized how late the question was. “During my frustrations earlier, I did not even stop to think about why you were in the training room instead of with Greta or doing something else.” I exhaled. “Actually, it makes more sense now that I think about it. You are off, I guess, in the same way I am, while the martial trainees are recovering.”

  She nodded. “Yeah. That’s pretty much it.”

  “But honestly, you should probably be part of that healing class.” I said.

  She raised an eyebrow. “Me?”

  “I think you would have the best aptitude for something like that,” I said, matter-of-fact. “Plants and botanomancy have a lot of healing capabilities. You just need to learn which plants do what.”

  “Aloe is good for burns,” she said automatically.

  I smiled faintly. “Exactly. It is not the same as healing magic, but you might find you have a talent for healing in ways other than direct restoration. The Healers’ Guild is probably looking for pure healing mana, but that is rare.”

  “There are other ways to heal,” I continued. “Fire, water, dark, light, plant mana. They all have aspects that can be used to heal if you understand how to channel them properly.”

  She nodded slowly.

  “Each school has its own methods. Ways to convert intent into restoration instead of damage. The Healers’ Guild is probably testing to see who even knows that much.” I added.

  She shook her head. “Well, not all of the schools, apparently. They do not want to teach fire.”

  “What has this world become?” I asked quietly.

  The thought lingered longer than I expected. I knew almost nothing about this world’s politics, its history, or its people, but the fundamentals of magic were not something I lacked. There were always new discoveries, always refinements and inventions, but this was not that.

  I hesitated, then sighed. “There is something else you need to know,” I said. “I made a dumb decision. I did not realize familiars were rare here. Teaching a student how to summon one without understanding that was my mistake.”

  I rubbed at my face. “So, Bunny is going to need to stay hidden until you are stronger.”

  I frowned. “Greta, Myrda, and the children here do not understand the concept of a familiar.”

  Meka nodded, but it was not agreement. The realization settled in behind her eyes a heartbeat later, and her posture stiffened as if she had just understood something she wished she had not. “Someone in the city might,” she said, more carefully now.

  “They probably already have,” I said. “You walked into the city with Bunny yesterday.”

  She was quiet for a moment longer, then looked back at me. “Yeah...”

  A thought struck me. I rubbed at the side of my face. “Meka, why have you not said anything about my eyes?”

  Her brow furrowed. “Your eyes?” she asked, genuinely puzzled. “Oh. Did something happen to them? Did you get hurt?”

  “No,” I said.

  That was when she stepped closer. She reached up and pushed her heavy bangs fully out of her face so I could see her properly, then leaned in until she was far closer than most people ever got.

  I had seen her eyes before, but I had never really looked. Up close, the truth was obvious. They were glassy and unfocused, not tracking the way eyes were supposed to. Distant, as if the world reached them only second-hand.

  “Meka,” I said quietly, “how do you move around?”

  She tilted her head, confused by the question. “I hear very well,” she said. “Better than most.”

  “That cannot possibly be all of it,” I said.

  “I can smell things,” she added, as if listing obvious facts.

  I waited.

  She thought about it, then lifted one hoof and tapped it lightly against the ground. The vibration carried through the stone and into my feet. “And I feel things,” she said. “Through the ground. You can tell where people are if you pay attention.”

  She shrugged. “It is not that hard. I lived this way my whole life. It’s normal for my people.”

  I swallowed. “Has anyone ever suggested glasses?”

  She blinked. “Glasses?” She waved a hand vaguely at her own face. “For me?”

  “For you,” I said.

  She frowned, thinking. “Most of my people do not bother,” she said after a moment. “The hair blocks a lot anyway. And my eyesight has always been bad.”

  I nodded slowly. “I had not heard that about your people before,” I said. “But I think it would give you an advantage if you had better eyesight.”

  She watched me carefully as I continued. “We could go into the city together next time,” I said. “At the very least, we could order a pair for you.”

  Her ears flicked, uncertain.

  “I think they would look good on you,” I added.

  The image that sprang to mind surprised me. Old library stacks, dust and ink, a wizard bent over a table of notes with spectacles perched on her nose. The idea was faintly ridiculous and completely appropriate all at once. A librarian’s affectation, maybe, but one that fit her far better than I would have expected.

  I snorted quietly at the thought, then shook my head. It was funny.

  And somehow, it was right.