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“In time, perhaps. But first we need to start with something simpler.”

Teaching Kerik to do magic is necessary, he knows that. He also knows it would be better not to do such a thing in Vylenor, where the mere thought of mortals learning to use magic is a great transgression. Nevertheless, of all Perl’s many crimes against faekind, at least teaching mortals magic does not make him burn with a confusing mixture of shame and wanting.

Perl has Kerik sit opposite him, cross-legged on the bed. He remembers the old lessons he was taught as a fae youngling, as he says, “The most basic magic is a simple act of moving an object, just as one would move it in the mortal realm. For example.” He reaches into the air and produces an apple.

Kerik blinks.

Perl says, “I did not create this apple. I moved it. It was, a moment ago, hanging on a tree in an orchard in Ismagaar. I moved it here just as you would move it by taking it up and carrying it.”

“But it appeared,” Kerik says. He reaches out and takes it from Perl, turning it around in his hand to marvel at it. He takes a bite from it, as if checking it is real. “Oh,” he says, a little surprised. “That tastes so good.”

“It is nothing more than an ordinary apple. But it tastes good because you have not been eating in Vylenor.”

“And you can just do that? Bring anything you want to your hand? Anything at all?”

“It simply needs a little concentration. See?” Perl blinks and the bitten apple vanishes from Kerik’s hand, reappearing in Perl’s. “Once you can move objects you can do most magic you would ever wish. It is simply a matter of what you move and how. Practice and you will be able to master larger objects and greater distances, but the real skill is not in moving large things a great distance, but in moving small things tiny distances.”

Kerik looks at Perl puzzled. But before he can say anything, Perl continues. “It may sound strange but that is the true power of magic to change matter, or even create it from the air. It can be done because everything you know in the world is actually made of tiny pieces. Like grains of sand or salt, but smaller than that. So small they cannot be seen. And even those small pieces are made of yet smaller ones.”

Again Kerik frowns, but he says, “I think I have heard such a notion. In lessons. There were some philosophers who claimed such.”

“Indeed there are. Some mortals have considered these ideas. While the fae know they are the truth, because with magic we can sense such things. Although it takes great concentration. But when you can move those tiny things, shifting them just a little, you can do anything you wish. Create anything you wish. Even change a person's feelings or thoughts. Or end their life.”

Kerik is still frowning. “But how can you move things if they are too small to see?”

“Concentration and will,” Perl says simply, although he knows it is far more complex than that.

“So you could move me?” Kerik says. He looks at the apple.

“In theory, yes. In reality, that would take a lot of power. A thing that is living is far more complex to move, as every part must remain in its correct place. But in simple terms, moving things with magic needs power. Just as moving things by mortal means needs power. The reason it is easier to do it here is that there is so much wild magic in the air. In other places, you can pull magic from yourself. Your own body, but that will deplete you very quickly.”

“Well then let me try,” Kerik says as he moves his own hand, placing it between Perl’s and the floating apple. Perl lets him take control of it. The apple wobbles and drops but before it hits the bed, it rises again, floating under Kerik’s control.

Perl makes a soft gasping sound. The magic seems to come to Kerik as easily as breathing. These spells took Perl years to master. But for Kerik they seem to just flow into him.

“Is this me?” Kerik says in a soft whisper. “Is it me doing this?”

“Yes,” Perl says, voice equally soft.

Kerik moves his hands and makes the apple bounce in the air. “If the fae have such powers I am surprised you do not use them to take the world back from mortals.”

“Because the Bellator wiped out the reserves of magical power in the mortal realm. That is how they won their war against us. We were powerless, forced to flee to the only corners of the world where the power is still retained. We cannot do magic in the mortal realm now without great costs to ourselves or complex methods of storing magical energy inside mortal vessels.”

Perl looks at Kerik. He seems unconcerned by this and more concerned with making the apple dance in the air, captivated by what he can do.

Here he is with another mortal who is connected to the story of Ur-Durik. And here he is once more teaching that mortal magic.

Will he regret this as much as he regrets her?

Kerik laughs and breaks his concentration. The apple falls to the bed. He picks it up.

“Zai’s eye,” he says, “Why do I feel so tired. I feel like I could lie down and sleep for a thousand years.”

“You feel like that,” says Perl, taking the apple from Kerik and tossing it into the air before blinking, sending it back to the orchard it came from. “Because you did that using your own strength not the power in the air. There is enough power here you should not need to use an ounce of your own, you just need to harness it.”

“Then teach me.”

“I will,” Perl says, “in time. We have another test to prepare for and you should not exhaust yourself.”