The Wordmage: Umbrageous Apologue- Chapter 13

“But then I was young – and it took ten years
in the woods to tell that a mushroom
stoppers the mouth of a buried corpse, that birds
are the uttered thought of trees, that a greying wolf
howls the same old song at the moon, year in, year out,
season after season, same rhyme, same reason. I took an axe

to a willow to see how it wept. I took an axe to a salmon
to see how it leapt. I took an axe to the wolf
as he slept, one chop, scrotum to throat, and saw
the glistening, virgin white of my grandmother’s bones.
I filled his old belly with stones. I stitched him up.
Out of the forest I come with my flowers, singing, all alone.”

From “Little Red-Cap”, Carol Anne Duffy


A week later, Master Neyemi handed over the first rewritten fairytale. Evenna looked up from her draft of the paper she had to present. “Really? I can read it?”
“You may. Meanwhile I will review that paper. I think I’ll find at least ten misspellings on the first page.”
Evenna smiled and took the fairytale. The world around her faded away as she immersed herself in the short story. Even the light scratching of Master Neyemi’s pen, correcting rare mistakes in spelling and grammar, could not penetrate the bubble, although it could almost always wake Evenna from a reverie.
When she finished reading, Evenna looked up at Master Neyemi. Her teacher returned her strange gaze with a tranquil one.
“This isn’t what I expected,” Evenna said.
“No? What did you expect?”
“Oh, a change more like the ones Sir Telif made, happy endings and, um, you know,” Evenna said, blushing. “Silly children’s stories.”
“That isn’t the way to change society for the better,” Master Neyemi said. “I am realistic, more so than you. It comes of living longer.
“Do you think this will work? If this makes a strong enough change on the fairytale- I doubt my writing will change society- it might neutralize part of the book’s effect after it’s gone. Perhaps it will undo some of the changes the fairytales wrought in us.”
“After it’s gone? You still mean to destroy the book?”
“I think we should let Orin hear the rewritten fairytale. His rare talent could come in useful.”
Evenna scowled at her inky hands. Master Neyemi gave her the draft back, marked with red ink.

At lunch, Evenna told Orin that Master Neyemi wanted him to hear the revised fairytale.
“She wants him to hear it, not read it?” Miana raised an eyebrow. “Will she read it or you?”
“I hope she will,” Evenna said. “It’s still not what you’d call a cheerful story.”
“Wonderful! I’m looking forward to it,” Orin said glumly. “My favorite pastime is listening to people read horrible fairytales to me.”
“I don’t think you have a choice,” Miana said.
“No, that’s not true. You can choose not to come,” Evenna said.
“I can’t. I have to help,” Orin said.

So the next evening, instead of sitting in the library and finishing projects, Orin and Evenna sat with Master Neyemi. Evenna thought that whatever Miana was doing right then, it had to be better than what they were doing.
Master Neyemi showed an impassive face and waited for Evenna to begin reading. The reluctant girl cleared her throat, received a disapproving glance from Master Neyemi, and began.
Orin sat very still all through the reading. Evenna’s voice filled the room, carrying with it a story that was both a fairytale and something else. Orin looked at her and let the mage-craft and the power of the story wash over him.
When she finished he rubbed his forehead with the heel of his hand.
“Speak, Orin,” Master Neyemi said.
“The power is still there, but it’s changed,” Orin said bluntly. “I don’t know how you succeeded. Congratulations.”
“But we still need the original fairytales, don’t we?” Evenna asked pleadingly. “They’re the source. We need them to regulate the remaining influence.”
Orin clenched his hands into fists and let them go. He said simply, “After you finish rewriting the fairytales, you need to destroy the old ones. Otherwise they’ll keep on the same as before and the rewriting won’t do any good.”
“No, Orin,” Evenna said. “You can’t say that.”
“It’s true. I think that’s what will happen.” Orin shifted uncomfortably. “I can’t be sure- no one knows to tell me how I can be sure- but the book has to be destroyed.”
Evenna bit her lip. Orin’s ability to sense magic made it hard to gainsay his words. He was looking more miserable by the minute, for some reason. She looked down at her lap and fiercely battled tears. I won’t cry, she thought. Grow up!
“I understand, Orin,” Master Neyemi said. “Thank you for your contribution.”
Orin rose from his chair and bowed. “You’re welcome.” He looked at Evenna. “We should go now. To dinner.”
“Go,” Evenna muttered. She clenched her hands in her lap.
“Evenna, please try to understand,” Master Neyemi said as Orin sat down again. “I am not doing this of my own whim. It is a solution to a dangerous problem.”
Evenna merely shrugged.
“Really, this is very immature.” Master Neyemi frowned. “No matter what you decide should happen, I will proceed as planned. It is the least dangerous path.”
“It’s too big a loss!”
“It is not. You forget that we both have a strong connection to the written word. And yet I am willing to make this sacrifice. You do not seem to grasp the danger.”
“You’re just trying to make up for before,” Evenna said darkly. “You’re treating me like a child because you’re guilty. You’re afraid and you wish I was too!”
“Yes, I do wish you were more afraid. You have no sense,” Master Neyemi said coldly. “If you do not stop with this ridiculous blame-casting I will leave you to fend for yourself for the exams and paper.”
Evenna froze. “Yes, Master Neyemi.”
“Blackmail. I feel as if I’m teaching a five-year-old.” Master Neyemi sighed. “I understand your concern. I still believe that you have a deeper understanding of this situation than you show. Please act appropriately.” She gestured towards the door. “Leave now. Orin, do watch her.”
“Yes, Master Neyemi, of course,” Orin said. Evenna stormed out of the room and Orin ran after her.
“Go away, Orin,” she said. “I don’t need a nursemaid.”
“I’m not being a nursemaid, I’m being a friend. And you’ve gone mad. You do realize that I didn’t just invent the fact that the book has to be destroyed?” Orin demanded.
“You did hear me say I don’t care, didn’t you?” Evenna retorted. “You don’t know how much it will hurt. I copied those fairytales. I slept with that book in my room! I read them and studied them and I’m going to be a literature craftmage, Orin, and destroying a book is wrong!” She was red in the face.
“Oh, I don’t know? How about the fact that I can practically taste the evil that book exudes? I knew it from the start and I was too stupid to recognize it. Would you like to live with that?” Orin shouted.
Evenna glared at him and turned on her heel, striding off to the dining hall. Orin kept up with her easily.
“Leave me alone.”
“No.” Orin was calm again. “You’re too angry and crazy now to be left alone.”
“I hate you.” This came out flat. Orin took it without a word.
Evenna stopped walking and scowled. “I don’t.” She caught Orin’s arm. “I’m sorry.”
“That’s all right. I never take things to heart if you say them when you’re angry,” Orin said seriously.
“Good.” Evenna let go of his arm. “I can’t let her destroy the book.”
“You’re going to have to, because I’m not letting you stop her. Now, let’s go to dinner and tell Miana and you can cry or something and you’ll feel better.”
Evenna shot him a poisonous look. He ignored it.

Dinner was a silent meal, or as silent as a girl who was determined not to say a word, a boy made quiet by worry and fear, and a very puzzled girl who doesn’t know what’s happening can make it amid a crowded dining hall. Miana got only a very summarized version of the events, and neither coaxing nor snapping at Evenna and Orin could get more.
“I’m guessing,” Miana said after a while, “that Orin finally stood up to you and you lashed out at him. Am I right, Evenna?”
“No,” Evenna said, but the words lacked conviction.
“Finally!”
Orin stared at his cousin.
Miana laughed. “I mean, finally, words from the marble statue. Although curing Evenna’s spoiled childishness is a definite plus.”
“I’m not spoiled,” Evenna said. “I’m being vehement and steadfast.”
“You’re being stubborn and naïve,” Miana countered.
“Why can’t you see that the book shouldn’t be destroyed?” Evenna asked. “I’ve had enough of dancing around it. We won’t die of it!” She snapped her mouth shut. “Oh, what’s the use. Nobody cares about it.”
“I understand about valuable resources for research and knowledge as much as you do, and I care about you, too. But weigh it against lives or sanity-”
“We should do something about it! Like, like-”
“There is nothing to do,” Orin said.

After dinner Evenna went to her room and shut the door behind her. She sat in her chair and let the tears come, sticky and physically painful. When they died down she climbed into bed, shedding boots and tunic on the way, until she was naked under the covers. She blew out the lamp and soon she was asleep.
Sleep was like spreading her hands in submission. The same feelings followed in the morning- defeat, weak anger, weariness.
Master Neyemi was waiting in the classroom. Evenna bowed and sat in her chair. “I’m sorry about last night.”
“Indeed. Let us move on-” Evenna shook her head. “Oh, no? Let’s hear it, then.”
“I want two things. First, I want to read all the fairytales you rewrite.”
“You may,” Master Neyemi said.
“Second, I don’t want to know when you destroy the book.”
“I won’t tell you.”
“Thank you.” Will I know anyways? Evenna wondered. I really hope not.
“Now, your paper has several minor mistakes in the structure. You grammar and spelling are impeccable. However, I noticed you tend to write unending sentences…”

Really, Evenna thought, looking out of the window, I should get back to studying.
Orin and Miana, sitting at the library table behind her, exchanged a glance. Evenna was fine. She had stopped shouting at them when they mentioned the fairytale book. Neither Orin nor Miana could explain why this was worrying, but it was.
The weather was very warm and the trees and lawn were green. It was a conventional spring day, a few days before the exams and a few weeks before they had to present their papers. The whole university fairly exuded an air of tense concentration.
Evenna scanned the lawn for any sign of- something. Her eyes settled on one of the few people who were outside.
Evenna got up from the window seat and walked nonchalantly to the door. Her friends looked up but didn’t follow her. When she turned the corner outside the door, she broke into a run.
Evenna almost bowled people over a few times, saving herself from collision by bouncing off walls. She ran out of the building and ended up panting in front of Sarn. “Hello,” she said.
“Hello,” Sarn said.
Evenna’s breathing got halfway back to normal. “Master Neyemi wrote a revision of one of the fairytales.”
“That’s very quick.”
“It’s good.”
“It would be.”
“She’s going to destroy the book.”
“That’s for the best.”
“Why do you hate me?”
Sarn blinked. “You’re a condescending noble brat. Why do you hate me?”
“You’re a sexist ignorant.” Sarn laughed. “But I don’t hate you anymore.”
“That’s nice.” Sarn paused. “What did you run here to tell me?”
“That’s more or less it. Why are you here?”
“I’ve come to let Master Neyemi know I’m leaving,” Sarn said.
“But you could be useful! You shouldn’t just go. Don’t you want to know what happens in the end?” Evenna asked.
“I’m done with this. It’s out of my hands now, and I really don’t want to see how it ends.” Sarn grimaced. “Doesn’t it always end in ‘happily ever after’?”
“Not anymore.” Sarn started walking towards the university building and Evenna walked beside him. “So you’re just going back to your job?”
“Yes, I am.” They reached a staircase. Sarn stuck out a hand. “Goodbye.”
“Goodbye.” They shook hands and Evenna turned away, feeling alert and filled with some kind of unwanted energy.
“Good luck on your exams,” Sarn called after her.
Evenna spun around. “Do you really mean that?” she asked.
“Uh, sure. You do have exams, don’t you?” Sarn asked.
“We do, Mr. Sarn. Good luck in your life.” She walked away, suddenly tired. But there was work to do.




Evenna packed her clothing and cast a lingering look at her bookcase. It held only books, which would wait until she returned for her Green year.
A year ago, Evenna thought, I was recovering emotionally from a murder. And here I am, folding my clothes calmly.
Maybe by the time I return, Master Neyemi will have destroyed the fairytale book.
“Ready?” Miana asked. Evenna jumped and turned her head to see her friend in the doorway.
“Almost.” Evenna folded a nightgown and packed it into her trunk. “Aren’t you going with Rosie?”
“With you and Orin.” Miana grinned wickedly. A hint of sadness hid inside the grin. “Hopefully it’ll be the last year I have to be a chaperone.”
Evenna’s cheeks reddened. “Done.” She shut the lid and smoothed the skirts of her dress. “Are you looking forward to going home?”
“Yes and no.” Miana placed her hands on her hips. Evenna closed the door and they walked down the corridors. “Yes because I love my family, no because I’m stuck.”
“I hope you get unstuck,” Evenna said.
“So do I. But as the cook said to the priestess, fat chance.”
Evenna shook her head with a smile. “That doesn’t make any sense.”
“Of course it doesn’t. What would you do if I made sense?” They stopped outside Orin’s room. Miana knocked.
“I just might go insane,” Evenna laughed.
Orin opened the door. ‘Let’s go,” he said.
“As if it were us keeping him waiting,” Miana stage-whispered.
“I simply don’t stand on ceremony,” Orin said and tugged Evenna’s braid. She skipped out of reach.
Outside the university gates, they could hear the sounds of the Spring Festival. Music and talk mingled, and the air carried a hint of flowers.
“The year’s over,” Orin said. “What’s next?”
“Another year, I suppose,” Evenna said.
“Very dramatic,” Miana teased.

They entered the festival proper. The sounds and the people, along with the scents and the colors, drew them in. For the moment, they let go.
No happy ending, Evenna thought as Orin’s hand grasped hers and she was rushed headlong into the crowd. That’s good.