Marian (6:21)

Candle magic isn't flashy like other arcane arts. Enchantments dazzle and shimmer. Elemental magic sparks and fizzes and transformation magic snaps. Suddenly a pigeon is a cat. With candle magic, you need to know the chandler or candlemaker it came from. Otherwise you'd never know a candle was infused with a spell. Shalewise wonders at this as he watches a beekeeper mage wave his hand. A purplish glittering smoke washes over the hive and the buzz quietens, at least from one of the dozens of hives in the apiary. Bees flit back down into the hive or simply find a comfortable place on the mage's robes to take a quick n. The mage smiles to himself as he carefully pulls one of the frames out of the hive. Sleepy, grumpy bees skitter around. The mage gently taps the frame, letting the sleepy bees flit off back to their home to rest. Lost in thought. Shaleweiss jumps a little when one of the apprentices pops her head out from under the desk. The apprentice is a young girl with dark hair and dark brown skin. She asks Shellweiss how many he's after today. Four, please, he says. Her arms flex as she hauls the big golden yellow bars of wax down off a shelf one at a time. Each bar of wax is about the length of her forearm. The girl watches, amused, as Shalewise sets them gently into a huge satchel, which almost hangs down to the floor by the time it's loaded up. As payment, Shalewai slides a box of sleep candles across the counter. They're a favourite of the head beekeeper mage. Then Shalewise heads out into the streets of Offrian. The library city of Offrian is bustling with scholars, mages coming and going from the colleges or the great arcane Library. A bunch of lore mages in long silver robes stand on a corner, debating the improper use of shield spells. Nearby, a handsome bard with locks of dark hair tied up prettily and a brilliant white smile expertly strums a harp. People clamber to throw coins into his hat, but Shalewise gives him a wide berth. He barely has enough silver for his favourite broadsheet about night's adventures, which is coming out on the weekend. Shalewise walks on through the town. A tanned, freckled woman with strawberry blonde hair and a wolf almost as big as she is ambles down the main street. She's probably a Druid, in town for a lunar ceremony. Ophrian is full of mages from every walk of life. And there are townsfolk, mages or not, going about their business, keeping the town running smoothly. That's not always easy. Often mischievous enchanted chairs will slip out from underneath the unwary. Or sometimes you give a dog an ear scratch and he transforms into a disgruntled mage. Or else a drink of your favourite juice turns you purple. That happened to Shalewise once. It only lasted a day. But now he studies any juice he's offered with a cautious eye. There's a reason why they call them magic tricks, Marian always says. Shalewise loves living in Offrian, but he also finds the bustle and noise a little overwhelming. That's why he likes Marian's chandlery. It's calm and quiet there. No flashy, noisy, tricksy magic. Shalewise waves to the alchemist as he passes by her shop. He rounds the corner to the sunny street he moved to about a year ago, on his 11th birthday. At the end of the street on the left is a shop with an old wooden sign. A candle is painted in pearly white and the light in gold. Little wisps of painted smoke form the words Marian the Chandler. Hello, Marion, shalewise calls out. He heads past the shelves stocked with candles and past the shop desk. Usually he'd be sitting there when he's not running errands for the chandler or helping her clean and tidy things. But today he heads straight into the workshop. Today he'll be making magic candles. The workshop is a magical place in itself. At least Shale Wise thinks so. There's the pleasant, musty smell of wax and the decades of wood smoke that have seen seeped into the walls. And there are subtle scents from fragrance oils, which Marion sometimes adds to bolster the magic effects. Lavender for calm and citrus and camphor to chase off bugs. Magic changes a place, too. Years of Marion's gentle spells have woven into the fabric of the workshop. Sometimes sunlight streaming through the door will make Shalewise's head nod in drowsiness or else make him feel like he could tackle any task. Light catches the wisps of old spells. By the time Marian has tottered in, Shalewise is already stoking the fire in the enormous hearth. The brick lined hearth is big enough that he can stand inside it when there's not a fire lit of Marian's lavender robes swish as she pulls her snow white hair up into a messy bun. She gives Shellwise a gentle pat on the head, then grabs the kettle off the shelf. On the same shelf is a big cauldron, which Shellwise hauls down. Marion claims the big cast iron cauldron is as old as she is. It's got small dents along the rim and the handle's been used so much that the coating has flaked off to reveal the cool grey metal beneath. The inside is shiny from use while the outside is scarred and mottled from age. It's big enough that Shalewise has to cradle it in both arms and waddle over to the hearth where he lowers the thick handle onto its holder. When the kettle's boiled, Marion pours them both a cup of fragrant chamomile. Shalewise has to suppress a smile as he watches Marin's thin, wrinkly hands wrap around the ceramic mug. Her skin is thin like old parchment paper and spotted by time, but he's always found her hands strangely beautiful, not just the way they look but the way she moves them, graceful and flowing like a conductor directing a band. She makes picking up a mug look like an enchantment spell. She blows once over the top of the mug, takes a small sip, then smiles and looks up at Shaleweiss. Now, marion says, let's make some candles together. They get all the supplies out, putting them on the big wooden table in the middle of the workshop. A couple of balls of wick, string scissors, a few wooden spoons, a mold, and a little cup to scoop up the wax. Marion tuts that they're forgetting something and Shalewise runs over to the bag he left by the doorway. They need wax, of course. Walk me through it, love, says Marion as she helps Shalewise lift the heavy sack of wax bricks onto the table. First we melt the wax, shalewise explains. He slides one of the bricks of beeswax out of the bag, smiling as he holds the weighty golden yellow brick in both hands. These are going to be his candles, and this is what he moved to Offrian for to study with Marion and to become a candle mage. He glances up and realizes that Marion's beaming down at him. With the brick in his hands, he skitters over to the cauldron. Once the brick is lying inside, he pushes the cauldron so it hangs over the fire. The room begins to fill with the soft, sweet and musky smell of melting beeswax. Shalewise grabs a spoon and starts to prod at the wax as it melts, the fire crackling merrily underneath. We want the wax to melt, he says, but not to boil or hiss. The wax blackens if it gets too hot. We also want to charge the wax with a setting spell. Marion nods her head encouragingly when he looks at her. Then he turns back to the cauldron and takes a deep breath. Shalewise holds his fingers out over the cauldron. He traces an enchantment symbol over the large pot and mutters the incantation. He feels the spell beneath his hand as if it was liquid hanging off his fingers, dancing around without ever dripping down. Shalewise pulls the spell around and lets it release. He can feel it slipping into the cauldron as the wax melts. He finishes the incantation. The spell is part of the wax now as he stirs the viscous liquid with the spoon. He grins as he puts a loose cover over the cauldron. R He did it right, his first try. Shalewise and Marian keep an eye on the wax as it melts to a shimmering golden liquid. Meanwhile, they prepare the wick strings. Shalewise holds the strings up to the mould. Two metal plates are connected by six long, thin tubes. The wick should be as long as we want the candle to be, says shalewise, plus about 6 inches, since they have far too much wax for Shellwise's six candles. He helps Marion prepare a half dozen moulds with their own wicks. One mould would be sleeping candles, like the ones the head beekeeping mage swears by. The other will be concentration candles for the mage scholars. Another set will be candles that ward off nightmares, and another, an alarm spell for people out in the wild. For every spell that Marian could dream up, there's a mold for her helpful, practical magical candles. When they have all their strings ready, Shalewise goes over to the cauldron and lifts the lid. Nodding, he takes the fire poker and uses it to switch swing the large pot off the fire, feeling the golden, melted beeswax sloshing with the momentum. For now, they can leave the wax to be kept warm by the ambient heat on the bottom of the cauldron. They can always warm it up again later if they need to. Next, says Shellweiss, we dip the wicks in the wax and straighten them with our fingers. Marion helps him one at a time. She hands him the hemp string wicks that he, shale wise, carefully lowers the wicks into the pot, letting the thick liquid coat them in wax while leaving the ends dry. Next, they lay the wicks down on some cheesecloth, which covers the big wooden table, and they make sure the wax coated string is nice and straight. Then Shaya Weiss helps Marion do the same thing with the dozens of wicks she's prepared. It feels good to be working beside her like this. He spent the last year mostly running errands, helping her clean, preparing the materials and keeping shop. Now he'll be able to help her with the simpler magic candles as he learns more and more about how to be a candle mage. Thank you, dear, says Marian. What's next? Shalewise reverently picks up the mould he's going to be using. The mould is open on one end with six holes that he'll be pouring the wax into. The other end has much smaller openings, barely large enough to spool the wicks through. Now we're going to string the wicks through the bottom of the mould and tie them off, Shalewise explains. He picks up the first wick, expertly slipping it through the small hole at the bottom. Once he's made sure there's some extra length coming out the top opening, he ties off the string. Then he picks up a little chunk of partially melted beeswax that dripped onto the cheesecloth. He runs it between his fingers until it snapped soft and moldable. And now, he says, we seal the bottom with balls of wax with some sticks from Marin's garden. They tie the other end of the wicks coming up through the top. The sticks are used to hold the wicks straight. Shalewise needs a little help to make sure they're taut. Then he helps Marion do the same with her moulds. String goes through, make sure there's some extra length, tie it off and seal with a ball of wax. Then tie the other end to a stick so the wicks are standing up straight. They do this over and over again until they have a bunch of moulds standing upright in front of them, ready for wax and magic. What spell are we thinking for your candles, Shale? The apprentice scrunches up his mouth in thought. I know it's easy, he says, but I want to try a calming spell. Marion nods sagely. Parents of newborns will be very thankful for them, she says. But calming candles can be used for More than that, if someone's frightened by thunder, maybe they light one during a storm. Or a student is anxious about a test and just needs a little warm, calming light to help them study by. You'll never know all the ways that something simple you do can help other people. And just because something is small and simple doesn't mean it helps them them any less. Shalewise nods back, feeling his face going red at Marin's kind words. She's quiet like him, so whenever she speaks, it always feels important. He appreciates her encouragement. Shalewise takes another deep breath, then walks over to the cauldron with one of the cups for wax. He dips it in carefully, then turns back to the table where his mould awaits him. This is the moment of truth. This is when he'll truly make magic. He holds his hand over the mold and begins to whisper the incantation for his calming spell while slowly and carefully pouring the wax in in. As he feels the warm tingling energy clinging to his hand, he twists his wrists slightly so the wax catches the spell. Over and over again he murmurs the inc. It's hard work, concentrating on the spell as he pours the golden liquid of the melted wax over the top of the mould, slowly filling each of the tubes. When he's done, he huffs in exhaustion. It takes practice to be able to hold spells for a long time, but Marion leans down and studies the mould with a practiced eye. Then she looks at him, beaming the spell. He's tired but can barely contain his excitement. Except they now have to wait for the wax to dry before they can finish the candles, so Shalewise helps Marian with her line of molds. She makes it look easy, one hand drawing symbols in the air above the molds as she whispers the incantations in her quiet, sing song voice. Shalewise runs back and forth between the cauldron and Marian. He makes sure she always has a fresh cup of melted wax ready to be poured into the molds as she casts her spells. Finally she finishes the last and they both let out a contented sigh. Marion says it's time for l When they return from sharing sandwiches in the garden, the candles are ready for the next step. Normally it would take the whole day just to wait for the wax to settle, but they're helped along by a little enchantment on each of the molds, which makes the work slightly quicker. Shalewise stokes the fire again, tossing on a couple of fresh logs. He hauls the cauldron back over the fire until the remaining wax melts, then they do another round on each of the molds to fill in any hollow centers. Since the wax runs down the sides of the moulds and begins cooling instantly, there's sometimes a little hollow space to be filled up by more wax, more cups of liquid gold, more incantations. And then Marion coaches Shellwise through the final incantation to seal the spell into the candle, only to be activated by the gentle burn of a flame. Then he watches her do the same with hers. His whole body is exhausted, but he feels the warm, buoyant feeling of accomplishment. He did it. He made his first batch of magical candles. By the time they're done, the sky outside is changing from blue to orange and pink. This calls for a cup of tea, marion says as she grabs the kettle. Shalewise doesn't know if he'll be able to stay awake long enough to enjoy it, as he's worn out by the work and concentration, but he washes out their mugs from earlier and brings her the tea strainers. They carefully cut the knots on the end of Shellwise's mo. Then Marion uses the leftover hot water from the kettle to fill a big bowl. Shalewise lowers the mould into the water and counts to 30. Then he sets the mould down and gently, delicately pulls out the candles. They've been softened slightly by the hot water. He lays the candles out on the table, smiling from ear to ear. But before we enjoy some tea, says Marion, I would like to be your first customer. She places a coin in Shalewise's hand. He looks at it, then looks up at her and throws himself against her in a tight hug, tears of happiness welling in his eyes. She places his candle on a holder, and he carries their mugs out to the garden. Normally, Shalewise loves reading his magic theory out here. The small patio with a couple of comfortable outdoor chairs looks out over the river that runs through town. The bustle of offrian feels gentler as magical lamps begin to flare to life in the dusk, bathing the town in a soft twilight glow. As Marion lights one of Shale Wise's magic candles, he feels a calming, subtle warmth wash over his body. He slowly lifts the cup of tea. He blows across it once, takes a sip, and then sets it down, feeling his head nodding to his chest. The last thing he remembers is smiling drowsily when Marion tells him that he's a candle mage now, Shalewise, the chandler.