Challenge #01541-D080: Soured Gift
Wings are the symbol of mages, a manifestation of their powers. But magic isn't something easily accepted. People will do anything to be normal. -- YizukiKhons
They appear with the first use of magic, which can happen at any time following the day that a child first recognises that their own actions have consequences beyond themselves. Some say that their size indicates the mage's power. They are made of light, and it is not their size, which is illusory, but the luminosity of them that counts.
When Taerl, aged five, became annoyed at the sudden light in the theatre where she was trying to enjoy the performers, she had no idea the light was her own. Not until a fellow young patron asked her to turn her wings down. It hurt to look at them, they were so bright. She could move them if she thought hard about where they were, and made them stay inside her capelet, where they illuminated the floor underneath.
She'd just wanted to keep her chestnuts warm, and now this had to happen. Stopping the soft flow of force into her chestnuts did nothing to dim her wings. Focussing on them made them shine brighter. Trying to ignore them didn't do much to dim them.
Mama dragged her out of the theatre and berated Taerl to just relax. Taerl wanted to go back to the theatre and see if Everyman managed to defeat the devil. Therefore, she arrived at the city library in tears with her glowing wings lighting the way. Where the town's mage spent most of his time.
His wings were large and glowed like a candle. Taerl's shone like twin suns hovering above her shoulders. Maester Rinkus turned to notice the light and took in Taerl's wings with open trepidation.
"Make them go away," demanded Taerl.
"Please," added Mama. "We can't afford any of this."
Taerl knew that they were a small town with not a lot of money. They had a town mage and a library with four bookshelves full of information, and that was the wealth of the town. Taerl's own farm barely earned enough for a penny show on her birthday.
Maester Rinkus sighed. "There is no magic that would obliterate magic. The best thing for your daughter is to learn how to use her power.
"We can't pay you," said Mama. "We don't have the money."
Maester Rinkus kept staring at Taerl's wings. "I can sponsor her beginnings. And I shall be writing an urgent missive to the capital for further aid." More open goggling at her wings. "She's going to need more than I can teach."
Mama held Taerl close as if she were threatened by that news. "You'll teach her to read? But she's going to be marrying the Seward boy."
This was news to Taerl. She could see the wisdom of it. Swineherds earned the most money in this little town, and being able to raise pigs would help out her farm. She didn't see how being nice to Buk Seward would get Mama or her brothers a pig or three. It had to be grownup stuff.
"I'm sure the Sewards won't be upset," said Maester Rinkus. "What did you make to happen, Miss Taerl?"
Her voice barely worked. "...made m' ches'nuts warm..." she sniffed. "...missin' the end of m' birfday show..."
"Ah," said Maester Rinkus. "Everyman Versus the Devil, am I correct?"
Taerl nodded. And watched in awe as Maester Rinkus rose from his studies and pulled a slim volume from one of the four cupboards where the books were held. He flipped through the pages, and knelt to show her the words. Taerl couldn't read them, but she was vaguely aware that symbols turned into words.
"This is the play you were watching. Everyman Versus the Devil. When did you leave? I may not be an actor, but I can read to you how it ends."
"Don't you dare," shrieked Mama. "Reading can catch! She'll never be a good wife."
"Madam," sighed Maester Rinkus. "She can be much more for your household than a swineherd's wife. Her income as a mage will be far more than you can imagine."
"Just make it go away," pleaded Mama. "This will ruin our lives."
"I can't. Nobody can. The only thing anyone can do for her is to teach her."
Mama ran away from the library as if Maester Rinkus was the devil himself. Made Taerl work for the rest of the evening, despite it being her birthday. Mama kept her closer than she might have kept a toddler. Taerl was not allowed out of the house until she made her wings vanish.
Taerl tried, she really did. Hiding them under her clothes only worked when they were thick, winter clothes. They shone through summer clothing. She played with them, when Mama wasn't looking, making them be bigger or smaller at will.
The larger they were, the dimmer they shone, but it took effort to make them get bigger, and she could feel them when they went through solid objects. It was uncomfortable, but Taerl was not prepared to spend her summers indoors. She could stand discomfort. So she spent any moment when Mama was too busy to watch, stretching her wings.
By the time a late summer crawled into life-giving warmth, Taerl could stretch her wings so far that Mama couldn't spot them any more. And Taerl had her freedom for as long as Mama believed that her wings had 'gone away'. If she relaxed that stretch, even the slightest, the other children would mock her for her visible difference.
She learned a great deal about who her true friends were, that summer.
She also found reason to find Maester Rinkus and ask him questions. Of course, not when Mama was around. She had a lot of questions that made Mama angry. Questions like, "Why are boys allowed to learn to read but girls aren't?" or, "What's wrong with being a mage?" or, "Why's learning gotta cost so much?"
And, despite Mama's wishes, both Maester Rinkus and Buk Seward taught her how to read.
She got all the way to autumn before stretching her wings hurt. Within a few days, it made her sick. When Mama turned her in her bed and discovered that Taerl had been hiding her wings by lying on them... the reaction was something her town would talk about for decades. Mama was so mad that improvised a set of stocks to lock Taerl outside, downwind of the ducks. Taerl felt too sick to hide her wings, and so anyone who passed by her farm could see why Mama locked her up like that.
A woman in golden robes came at dusk. She needed no lantern, because of the glowing wings hovering just above her shoulder blades. Her wings were far brighter than Maester Rinkus', and looked... ornate. She stopped and stared at Taerl for what seemed like forever. Then she went inside. Mama yelled a little, but the yelling slowed down.
Things got quiet and the stars came out. Then so did the woman in the golden robe. She touched the bonds keeping Taerl in place and they came away in ashes.
"Your mother will be able to buy a boar and three sows," said the woman. "And you are free to come with me and learn."
Taerl figured out that she'd been purchased. Four pigs was a steep price for a girl who was able to read. She thought about Buk Seward, and the few friends she'd kept despite everything that had happened. "Nobody's gonna mind?"
"Those who matter will mind," allowed the woman. She had a small bolt of cloth inside her robes, which she moved her hands over and transformed into a voluminous coat for Taerl. "I am Maester Jaal. I will be caring for you from now on."
Taerl wept for her Mama as she walked away into the night. "She'll never know what happens to me."
"Yes," said Maester Jaal. "She has the erroneous belief that you are ruined by learning. She thinks you have no value. Therefore I gave her reparations for your care until this day."
Reparations sounded like the kind of word where someone was paid for something they had spent a lot of time on and lost their heart for the effort. Good money for spoiled goods. Taerl held out her arm for Maester Jaarl, and walked towards her new future with her eyes focussed on her own feet.
Maester Jaarl chose to hold her hand. "You do not have to hide, any more. People will see your wings as a sign of your prowess. Of your gifts."
"Don't feel gifted," Taerl mumbled.
"That will change," assured Maester Jaarl.
[Image (c) Can Stock Photo / xbrchx]
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