Slipping Through Fingers

The next day, Martel went to the apothecary at second bell as usual, even though his work with Mistress Rana had been moved to the sixth bell. Instead, he hoped that Nora could give him some insight into the exercise of awakening the magic in alchemical ingredients. He expected that since she had first learned Asterian magic like him, she might better understand the difficulties he faced.

As he arrived, she greeted him properly for the first time in over a month. As she began to talk, her usual apprehension towards him seemed to fade away. "Alright, in my experience, it's easier to get the magic going with ingredients that are still in their natural state. So try with this herb rather than any powders or such." Nora handed him a coltsfoot. "Now, Mistress Rana probably doesn't quite understand why this is difficult for us. This is the only form of magic she knows. We're used to always thinking of magic as coming in the shape of the elements. Metal or stone belongs to earth, anything liquid contains water, and so on. You have to forget about that."

Martel nodded a little. He had begun to understand that. Magic was a force unto itself. A raw material that could be expressed in different ways, not just as one of the elements.

"Everything living carries the seed of magic. Your task is to make that seed blossom. Connect with it and make it grow until it fills the plant."

Martel looked at the herb between his fingers. Perhaps his mistake had been that he tried to simply grab and pull on the magic inside. Instead, he had to coax it out rather than just yank it. "Alright. I'll give it a try."

"Don't get discouraged. It took me a long time. Why don't you practice a while now, and I can do some of my work. Then we see what progress you made," Nora suggested.

"Alright." Closing his hand around the plant, Martel reached out with his magic.

***

Martel continued to practice for the rest of the bell, though he had little to show Nora in the end. After his lesson in Archean, he kept at it for most of the lunch hours until his class in elemental magic with Master Alastair. Which led to sixth bell and his return to the apothecary, where Mistress Rana soon appeared to grant him entry to her sanctum.

As before, a worktable with all the ingredients for a potion of warmth waited for him along with a fireplace, a pot, and water. "Show me your progress."

Martel grabbed the coltsfoot and focused. He tried to reach out with his magic, but he could feel himself doing it wrong. His first instinct was always to feel for heat, which usually served him well. But it meant that the vaunted kernel of magic eluded him, and he could not properly connect to it. Something was there, perhaps, but it did not respond to his call. He was tempted to simply grab at it and pull on whatever his magic could catch, but instead, he tried to be patient, ignoring the pressure of Mistress Rana staring at him. Like trying to get a cat to approach, Martel held out a hand, magically speaking, hoping to connect with the dormant magic in the herb.

A shimmer appeared through his closed fingers, and he opened his hand to see a faint glow. It disappeared again. The cat had chosen to run away.

"Keep trying." Mistress Rana gathered up the ingredients and performed the magic herself, leaving them all bristling with power. "You remember the procedure?"

Martel nodded. "Boil the water. Keep stirring." That part, at least, was easy enough.

"Yes. As you do, try to connect with the magic as it appears in the cauldron. Get a sense for how it flows and moves in the water. When you are done, you will have to distil it into the bottle."

"Yes, mistress." Lighting a fire in the hearth with a casual spell, Martel prepared to prove his potion.

***

The third time around, the novelty had worn off. While it was still fascinating to watch the glow of magic in the pot, Martel knew to expect it, and he still had to spend more than two hours just staring. He could not spend the time practising his spellwork with the ingredients, as he had to try and connect with the magic floating in the water; not that he quite grasped what that meant. He could certainly reach out and feel the heat from the boiling liquid, and he knew it contained power same as when he held a potion in his hand. But he was unsure how to do anything with it. Much like sticking his hand in a brook, he might feel the water flowing past his fingers, but he could not grip it or do anything with it.

At length, Mistress Rana appeared. "Good. We are ready." She brought over the metal holder with a bottle attached to it. "I shall pour. Your sole task is to connect with the magic bubbling in the cauldron and push it into the vial. Get as much as possible for the strongest concentration."

The command was simple, unlike the execution. Still, Martel prepared himself, extending talent towards the pot and its contents, trying to grab hold of it in magical terms like he might a puddle of water in the street or a pebble on the ground.

With some cloth to protect her hands, Mistress Rana grabbed the cauldron and began pouring.

The water flowed easily; the magic did not. Panicking, Martel tried to reinforce his connection with spellpower pouring into it. As the only consequence, the water began boiling again with steam rising.

His efforts in vain, the glow in the pot faded as the magic evaporated. Nothing but warm water ever reached the bottle.

Setting the cauldron aside, Mistress Rana looked at their failed work. "You are welcome to take that home if you wish. Not that it has much use. But first, clean up your workstation."

With a faint sigh of disappointment, Martel did so.