Twiggy

Jelena, Sarevok and Peri still remained downstairs in the pub, but Imoen and Cespenar followed Winski to his and Jelena's bedroom. As Imoen went to pick her own spellbook and came to the room, he saw Winski curled in a cozy armchair, next to the fireplace, studying the spellbook and smiling. His expression told of total concentration, but also of bliss and inner peace Imoen sometimes had seen on the faces of very devoted clerics. Imoen sat in another armchair and watched Winski quietly, not wanting to disturb him.

After a while Winski seemed to snap out of his trance and acknowledge Imoen's presence.

- "There. A few fireballs..." he muttered. "Well hello, girl. You have studied both magic and thieving, correct?"

- "I prefer to call it roguing," Imoen said. "It sounds nicer. But in essence, yes."

- "Useful, very useful. It never hurts to have two arcane spellcasters, especially not when traveling with those two hotheads," Winski said. "And I really appreciate having someone I can talk about the Art with."

- "I think I don't need to ask which hotheads you mean," Imoen grinned. "You know, you looked really happy studying your spells."

- "This is the first time I study my spellbook and memorize my spells after I got my magic back," Winski said. "Can you imagine what it is like not to have it? The power you have studied hard and learned to harness, singing in your veins... and instead of it there's just a dead throb of a severed limb you still imagine is there?"

- "I... don't suppose I can," Imoen answered, eyes serious. "But I know how magic feels... it is like a soft, warm hum inside me... always consoling me, always reassuring me. Peri doesn't understand. She says she would feel on edge if she was dependent on something mysterious that is not a part of her. That she wants to feel her own body, strong, steady and accurate in its movements, and wield true steel."

- "She does indeed have a lot in common with her brother," Winski said dryly. "You may recall that Sarevok was almost completely resistant to magic in his first life. I was his teacher when he was a child... imagine trying to convince that cocky little warrior that magic is not only dangerous, but worth having in your own service as well."

- "I have the impression that Sarevok is not easy to convince by merely telling him something," Imoen replied, smiling.

- "Indeed. The dangerous combination of brilliance and arrogance... he is often correct and justified thinking that he knows better than others, but unable to tell when he does not."

- "But why don't you have a familiar?" Imoen asked. "It is just so neat! I know, most imps are nasty but Cespenar is really cute and nice."

- "It is a sad story, and an old one," Winski said, pain in his eyes.

- "Tell me. It's not like I am busy or something. You know... when I saw you dying there in the maze, I thought that I have never seen a sadder man."

- "Is that so?" Winski chuckled without mirth. "Very well. I am aware that this is a dreadful cliche, but nevertheless I was a lonely child, and my childhood was not a very happy one. My parents took good care of me, and paid for my education, which I am grateful for. Without their sacrifices I would not be a wizard. But I can't feel true love, for they never let me forget the sacrifice, never showed me affection. They only accepted me if I made no trouble and got good grades. I only cared about learning and thinking, reading... but my teacher wanted to slow me down, to make me think I am nothing. And the other children slapped and pushed me, called me names, ripped my books. I suppose I just wanted a friend. Someone who would care for me even if I was small, ugly and stupid like they said, and always be on my side. So I saved my allowance money for months and bought a scroll of Summon familiar... without permission and too young."

- "What happened?" Imoen scratched the ear of the sleeping Cespenar, her eyes full of compassion.

- "The spell... didn't work. The scroll was consumed. And my father... said it was my own fault..." Winski stopped talking, ashamed that the memory still brought tears into his eyes.

But Imoen was crying openly.

- "It is so sad! I am so sorry, Winski... you would have deserved a friend. Look, why don't you try again? I have the spell right here, look. It is an easy one, it certainly works now that you are so skilled, and even if it doesn't, it is easy to cast again."

Imoen held her spellbook, looking at the hesitant and awkward Winski.

- "You see... the same reason I never tried it again after that. I somehow feel... I know it is completely irrational, of course, but the stupid emotion still prevents me from acting... that no familiar will ever come to me. That I am too worthless for any creature to form such an attachment with me. And if I don't try it, well... I will never know it to be true."

- "Poor man. Of course it is silly. Think how much Jelena loves you. And Sarevok. And I like you already. Please, try it. I'm sure it works..." Without waiting for an answer Imoen went on to scribe a scroll of the spell.

- "All right," Winski answered, feeling a fluttering dread in his stomach. "Good night, Imoen."

As Imoen left Winski tried to think of something important to do to avoid starting the incantations. Completely ridiculous. Scared of casting a first level spell like a first year apprentice in wizard school's exam. Finally he inhaled deeply and just did it, making the right gestures, calling the syllables just right.

A few moments of primal, undefined fear, and Winski sat on his bed, feeling like he was ten years old again.

# Oh ho! An immortal magician! And one rather prone to brooding, but having my kind of sense of humor. Not bad, not bad at all .#

- "...Twiggy..." The word just came to Winski's mind from somewhere.

# It is I. First thing you need to do is to do something about that labile self-esteem of yours...#

Later, when the tipsy Jelena came to sleep, Winski woke up to her voice.

- "Winski. Are you aware that there is a snake in our bed? An adder, to be exact."

- "Oh, it is just Twiggy. My familiar. Say hello," he mumbled, smiling.

- "Hello, Twiggy."

Jelena was too tired to ask questions, but curled next to Winski and wrapped her arm around him. She touched the snake. The skin felt pleasant, silky and warm.

Winski, for his part, thought that he hadn't possibly ever been this happy.