31 Days of Stories

Day 12: TGW part 8

Master Sorren looked me up and down. He looked impressed for a second.

"So, you're the reason my son can walk," he said.

"No, that's not how it works, sir," I said. Clarifying this was getting old fast, but I guessed I would have to do that my entire life.

"So then what is?" he asked. Evander was still standing in the door, looking excited.

"El Roi help me," I muttered under my breath. "It was the pens I was given by the Great Weaponsmaster, which is why you are teaching me, sir." I said louder.

"Ah yes. The mystical man behind the curtains, who has conveniently supplied our people with weapons for generations without showing himself once. I suppose you are different and have talked to this 'great weaponsmaster' at some point?" Sorren sneered. Maybe this apprenticeship wouldn't be as fun as I imagined it would be.

Evander stepped in. "Father, don't be so harsh on her. She's only just learning how the world works. Please!" he pleaded.

Sorren's face softened. "You're right. Of course you're right. Sorry, Miss Jameson."

"I have to get to my own lessons today. I will see you all later," Evander said. He left with a wave.

"So, I suppose it's time to begin your lessons, isn't it." I nodded. "You learned grammar at the Academy, did you not?"

"I did. I thought I was going to learn how to use the pen as a weapon."

"You are, but first you need to know how to write so beautifully that everyone will know it is you writing. You must learn to write what you mean in as many and as few words as possible so that you will never leave anything unclear. You must learn to write–"

"Ok I get it, I have to learn very technical writing things so that I can write error free." I didn't want to hear all of the reasons that I needed to write fancy. I just wanted him to get to the point.

"Do NOT interrupt me young lady!" he thundered. He seemed to gather himself and make an effort to say the next words. "I am sorry Miss Jameson, I am not used to inquisitive young girls."

It wasn't an apology, exactly, but I let it go. "It's fine Master Sorren."

"No, it is not fine young lady. I should not have done that. I should not have spoken to you like that. I should..." he trailed off. "I was rambling again, wasn't I?"

"Yes, you were, sir."

"Let's see what grammar you learned at the academy. Grab a normal pen and write about your morning in the curtained room."

I spent most of the morning chronicling that morning of my birthday exactly as I remembered it. I described the terror and the anticipation I had felt. I described my conversation with Councillor Gilesprey. I talked about El Roi and the wonder I had felt at his voice and presence. I talked about the pens and the feeling of confusion I had at receiving them. I talked about my conversation with tha councillors and my mother after the room. I explained my feeling as I sat on the couch in my living room crying. By the time I finished, the sun was overhead.

I stood up and stretched. My legs were sore from sitting in the same position for so long. My left hand was cramping from writing that much. I tried writing with my right hand, but none of it looked good, so I had switched back to my left. I left the office to try to find a glass of water. I passed a room that held even more books than the office. I did a double take and stuck my head in the door.

Something felt weird about that room. It was just kind of heavy and unpleasant. I looked for the source of the feeling. Some of the books had weird titles: A Deadly Cure: the Ultimate Guide to the Alchemist's Blood, A Writer's Guide to Total Domination and Destruction, The Cursed Weapons of Ando-Rey. Most of the books looked old, old enough that they should have disintegrated a century ago. That uncanny feeling was still there.

"Snooping, are we?" Sorren asked. I startled and turned to face the door where he was leaning. His eyes were dark. "You should know not to go where you haven't been invited."

"Sorry, Master Sorren. I was going to find a glass for water and got distract by the books," I answered truthfully. He didn't seem to believe me. "These books are so old. I've never seen books this old before." A half truth. I hadn't seen books this old before, but that wasn't what distracted me.

Sorren seemed to buy that. "Be careful. A lot of these books would fall apart with a simple touch. I can get you water and a small bite for lunch, but you can't eat in here."

He left and I sighed in relief. The feeling was gone, replaced by a dread that I couldn't explain. Was Sorren hiding something? What would he be hiding?

I exited the dark library and returned to the office. Sorren walked in a few moments later carrying a tray with a glass of water and an elaborate sandwich. All worries were forgotten as I handed him my papers and ate my lunch. The sandwich was really good. The ratio of meat to lettuce to tomato to sauce was perfect. The bread was a delicious sourdough. Enough about the sandwich though.

Sorren looked over my paper. His expression went from interest to shock to something like hatred. Then, he slid a mask over his face, making his expression impossible to read.

"Well, that was an impressive story. You took some creative liberties, but it was still very good. I have some minor grammar corrections to help you with."

He didn't believe my story. I knew it was true. I wished everyone would believe me. I let him show me the corrections he wanted to make. They were all small things that had gotten away from me when I was writing fast at the end. I vowed to convince him my story was true later. 

Here's part 8. I really struggled to come up with random book titles, so I will come back and edit that sooner than the rest of the book.