He decided that practicing in his room wouldn't be a good idea. Not when experimenting with a spell that could send him headfirst through the ceiling. So, of course, the gardens came to mind. He'd come to enjoy them, over the last season. They'd become regular and familiar to him, two breaks every trial, drilling the delegates alongside the rest of The Band. But there was till something to be said for secrecy. Not showing your entire hand, even when you weren't at the table. The armored soldiers that watched them with studied boredom, they knew he was a swordsman. Probably had heard he was a mage. But they hadn't seen all of it.
They still haven't. But that's not the real issue is it?
"Youse gonna get t'hoppin' or what?"
He rolled his eyes and turned to the arsehole picking his teeth on the bench. Raand was clearly enjoying himself already.
"Yer not helpin'."
"Am I supposed t'be?"
Kasoria knew better than to engage the wanker any further. Instead he closed his eyes and focused only on himself. The air on his skin. The heat of the suns, now finally returned, warming him. He breathed in, focused on the breath... the heartbeat underneath it... and in that stillness, he summoned-
"Come."
The Spark came willingly now, like a bidden dog. He was fast finding that was an accurate comparison. It was eager, in the way his Transmutation was, but less... intellectual. His Transmutation Spark wanted to know, to document, catalog, learn all it could then pass all of it on to him. Much as the word could be applied to an intangible bag of ether housing itself inside him, Sovereign just... wanted to fly. To be free. To taste the air and work its wonders among that element.
Well, it's your lucky day, wee man.
He remembered what he'd read in he book, sitting unmolested next to Raand on the bench. Propel was the next spell, the next chapter, the next skill to master. Kasoria had paused for a while. Allowed himself to become yet more familiar with Expel, Impart... but there was more. Always more. Satisfied his foundation was well-established, and his Spark was as ready as he was, he wanted to continue.
More power.
Kasoria's eyes opened. Her words came back to him, unwanted and, of course, undeniable. As always when memory of that trial stirred, the combination of loss smothered by anger was clear on his face. Even Raand looked away briefly, knowing that expression of old and not wanting to press what had birthed it. These trials, he knew of only one subject. But the Raggedy Man he'd known quickly shoved the feeling aside. He spoke again, in low voice he could barely hear... and then-
Raand's eyebrows shot up, as he saw the air around his boss flare into emerald fire, gold sparks hissing through it.
"That's gotta fuckin' hurt."
Kasoria heard him, but did not listen. Two very different things, he'd learned. You could hear the whole world bustle around you, but not listen to a note of it. You just had to know how to shut out the noise. Stop up your ears without cotton or pitch, just... let it flow around you. Through you. Never inside. He inhaled. Exhaled. In and out. Pull and push. What Maxine had hurled at him, what Raand snickered, every sound beyond his own skin... it went away, and he felt his Spark flow under his skin... and directed it down.
Just like he book said.
He bent his knees, hands clenched at his side. As if he was about to jump straight in the air. As he did, he directed his ether downward, but held it there, almost... yes, like nocking an arrow and drawing the string. Letting the power rest there until he was ready. Then he straightened up and jumped and-
"Propel!"
A trill later, his feet touched the ground again. That was... not the height of a grown man, as the book had estimated. That was how high, how far a beginner at Propel should be able to go. Taller than him, at any rate. Far enough that he would feel the difference. But there was nothing, and Raand's snigger told him he looked as ridiculous as he felt-
Ignore it. Don't let it register. Try again.
He bent down again. Directed his ether. It was easier that time; first time was always the worst. That time, he put all that focus into his feet. Let the ether pool in them, making his soles tingle in his boots. The little man clenched his hands into fists. Found his Spark flittering within his blood, wanting to move and fly as much as he did. He didn't chide it, threaten it, admonish it. It was... a child, in many ways. This was one more test for it, one more chance to grow.
Ready?
It could not speak, but he got his answer, and-
"Propel!"
A few trills later, Kasoria landed back on his feet, and Raand was no longer laughing. He smiled.
