Thank you to the people who commented on the last chapter. I appreciate it greatly.
A few author's comments.
I'll work on the flashbacks, I realize now it was quite unclear.
This is NOT Sandry/Briar (in the past, that is). It really isn't. You'll see, I promise. As much S/B stuff I've written in the past as both my current name and past name, I'm not certain that Briar would hook up with any of his "sisters." I just happen to advocate an S/B rather than a T/B pairing, which would be quite disastrous in my mind. Or a Daja/Briar scenario, which I actually haven't really seen.
This chapter does a pretty good job of establishing the early relationship between Del and Briar. I'm kind of a bitch, so it was fairly easy to write their arguments.
Maybe Briar wasn't as stupid of a teacher as he thought, though he personally felt two months was much too long to spend figuring out basic concepts of your student's magic. "So when you disappear, you've been concentrating on an image of where you want to go?"
Del frowned. "Usually. I just imagine myself there, really think about it, and then- I go."
"When I saw you try to vanish outside the inn- remember that?"
"Of course," she said, rather snappishly. "You pulled me back and I landed on my rear end. On cobblestones!"
"Yes," Briar replied, smothering a small chuckle. "But what was really important," he told her, ignoring her menacing look, "was that I saw silver mist grow around you before I grabbed your leg with my magic."
"Which means?"
"I want to do a test. I'll go to my room, and you stay here. When I make your little plant start to wiggle, concentrate on coming here."
"What do you expect to see?"
"I'm not sure yet. Just try it."
Del waited until she saw the tiny plant quiver in its pot. Then she focused on Briar and his room, and felt the small jolt as her body reappeared on the thick rug he kept in front of the window. But to her surprise, she flew upwards and spun around several times as weird hooting rang out through the room.
This had never happened before. What had gone wrong this time?
Until Del realized that she was thrown over Briar's shoulder, and he was shouting in his own odd Pebbled Sea vernacular.
"Put me down," she said through gritted teeth, and was immediately dumped onto a rather hard wooden bench. Ignoring developing bruises, Del jumped to her feet. "What is wrong with you?"
Briar stopped jumping around the room and landed in front of her in one agile bound of his long legs. "When you did your disappearing act in your room," he said, gasping for breath, "a split second before you came, specks of magic formed in the spot you had chosen."
"Which means?"
"It means you send some of your magic to where you want to be, ahead of time," Briar told her impatiently.
Del watched as her teacher barely contained his desire to bounce off the walls. "You mean my visualizations...?"
"As vague as they are, yes." He stopped childishly twitching and strode over to her, gripping her shoulders. "You do realize how lucky you've been all this time, don't you?"
Del thought she was going to fall over backwards. The sudden change in Briar was almost overwhelming; she didn't know it, but he had gone from carefree boy to imperious Niko in less than a second.
"Do you?" he repeated furiously, and she realized she hadn't kept a single coherent thought in her head since the moment he touched her.
Maybe if he'd just let go, she thought faintly, and batted at his hands. Movement helped bring her back to her senses, and she got in at least a few good solid swats before he yelped and let go.
"That hurt," she told him, watching unrepentantly as he nursed his fingers.
He glared at her over his fingers, which were being carefully inspected for injury. "I meant it to. I want you to understand how dangerous it is to continue jumping blindly into another place."
"What do you mean?" Del asked dizzily as she backed slowly away from Briar. She desperately needed to sit before her legs gave way beneath her.
She settled on a couch and to her dismay Briar followed, perching on the backrest of the cushioned sofa. "Well, what if you projected yourself somewhere else, and you brought yourself directly into an object?"
"You mean, if you had moved that table over there where I materialized, and I didn't know it...?"
"Exactly. What we have to figure out is how much your visualization affects your entry into the ... place you've chosen to go."
He glared at her and Del shot him a look right back. "I don't tell myself to land next to your window," she informed him, crossing her arms. "I just think of the place in general."
"But that makes it worse!" he shouted.
"Why?"
"Well, what if you come out midair?"
"I haven't done that yet, have I?!"
"Well, Miss Adellaine, how exactly do you know you won't?"
A discreet knock on the door brought their screaming match to a quick end. "Lady Adellaine? Mage Briar Moss? Is everything all right?" The head male servant's voice was anxious.
"It's fine!" they said together, and the man's footsteps retreated. But the interruption had already done its trick, and the two had to quell instantaneous hysterical laughter.
"I've gone to places I've never seen before," Del said, once her voice was back under control. "I've never been to the Weary Falcon Inn before, but I arrived there intact."
He raised an eyebrow. "But you didn't mean to end up there. I remember you saying so. In fact, you didn't even know where you were at first."
"You had to bring that up."
Briar grinned. "It fits so nicely with my previous argument about magical control. How could I not rub it in?"
Del sighed gustily. "I didn't mean to go there," she told him. "I was trying to visualize the palace grounds."
"How did you get to the Falcon?" he asked, curiously.
Here Del paused and thought hard, remembering. She couldn't very well tell Briar that she had been thinking about his sad eyes when she disapparated. Of course, she hadn't been thinking about him that way.
And now, disgustingly, she found she couldn't bring herself to meet his eyes. Those eyes, she told herself irritatingly. The ones that sent me to that pub in the first place, with the alley that smelled like old wet liquored-up dog. The very memory made her skin crawl.
"I was thinking about mages," she said finally. "I had met a rather impressive series of quacks and minor magicians in the past few years, since my demons had begun to influence the willingness of many potential pig husbands." Del spat that last word out with a rather satisfied abhorrence. "I suppose my last thought was of you at dinner, and I was accidentally drawn to where you were lurking in the shadows."
"Ah, but the fairer sex is always drawn to me," Briar said with a slight drawl.
A very unladylike snort escaped from Del. "I imagine. It's a big wonder you're not tied down with a wife and forty children by now."
Something ran across his face, and Del knew she had ruined the moment. She mentally slapped herself on the cheek; it was so rare for Briar to relax for such a long period of time, and thoughtless words had ended his temporary peace.
Del opened her mouth to apologize, but Briar had already reached out his hand and tousled her loose hair beyond recognition. "Go on, we've been working on this all afternoon," he told her. "Change for dinner, I'll meet you out in, say, 20 minutes. And comb your hair."
"Thanks," Del murmured, letting herself quietly out of his chambers.
And only when she was in the hallway, door firmly closed, did Del allow herself to collapse against the wall. She would go mad, soon, she decided. I have to know what's going on.
The maid backed nervously into a corner of the hallway as Del approached. "May I help you, Lady Adellaine?" she said, voice trembling.
Del saw the woman's fear and smiled wryly. "I dropped a small potted plant near my windowsill," she lied. "I was wondering if you could help me sweep up some of the loose dirt."
"Yes, my lady," the maid murmured, following Del to her inner chambers.
The plant hadn't been dropped, of course. The dirt Del indicated had been on the floor since the day Briar exploded her pot with his first nightmare. She had, since then, hidden the mess with a small carpet and replaced the broken crockery. The wary women assigned to her rooms hadn't even noticed.
Del attempted to chat with the young woman as she swept up the potting soil. She had specifically captured this maid because she attended to the whims of Del's stepmother and therefore had more access to gossip than the average scullery girl.
The maid, whose name was Angella, was actually rather amiable for someone frightened by Del's mere presence. "I've only heard a little about Master Briar, my lady," she said, the soiled rug now rolled firmly under her arm. "What mostly goes around is the story of the dead Lady Sandrilene fa Toren."
"Would- would you please tell me?" Del asked, knowing that the woman really had no choice. Del didn't mean to use her influence this way, but her curiosity had almost blinded her since that bizarre afternoon.
The rug fell to the floor. "But my Lady, it's probably just gossip," poor Angella stuttered. "I don't even know how much is true."
Del took a chance. "Please, sit." Angella nearly jumped three feet in the air. "Please. I'm merely curious about my new mage-Master, and gossip is the best source I have at this moment. I certainly can't ask him, can I?"
Her smile was probably the key that opened Angella's trembling mouth. That, and the array of tea cakes set out on the low table.
Angella's expression was a mixture of confusion and rapture as Lady Adellaine offered to pour her a cup of tea. From the Lady's own hand. Into the Lady's own fine china teacup.
"Well, my lady, it's quite a story," she began eagerly.