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As the noise of the party died down, Tav made her way to Gale’s tent at the outskirts of the clearing. He’d spoken earlier of showing her something. She found him conjuring an image in his hand; a woman, beautiful and stern. Gale looked lost in thought, his expression melancholy in a way Tav had never seen before. They’d known each other only a handful of days, but circumstances had forced them into close quarters–inhabiting each other’s heads, on more than one occasion. She had come to know Gale as a fastidious, curious, and kind man. But the expression he wore now spoke of unknown depths, a history Tav could only guess at. She approached him after a moment.
“Who is that?”
Gale jumped, the illusion dissipating in a flash of lavender light. “You startled me,” he confessed, chuckling at his own jumpiness. “I was miles away. But, ah, that was Mystra, goddess of all magic,” he explained. “She controls the Weave, and that’s what I wanted to show you. Or, demonstrate, rather. A little lesson in magic.”
Tav cocked her head, wondering if she should be offended, if he was intentionally talking down to her. “You’ve seen me do magic,” she reminded him diplomatically.
Gale flushed, having the grace to look a little sheepish. “Yes, of course. Clumsy phrasing on my part, I apologize,” he said with a little smile. His demeanor changed a little, becoming more confident as he began to expound on the subject of his studies. “What I mean is, your magic is granted to you by your patron, and it is on that connection that you draw when you cast your spells. But for wizards, our magic is different, we access it in a different manner.”
His manner of speaking gave the impression that this was a concept he’d thought through many times before. He had the air of a professor standing at a podium. “By connecting to the Weave?” Tav surmised, playing the part of a dutiful student. Magic was as intuitive to her as speech; there were others who drew on magic in a similar way from the gods, or from various beings powerful enough to bestow it. But she knew that there were those who could access magic without any assistance, could pluck strands from the Weave directly to manipulate the world around them. She’d never tried it herself, never had any interest in the years of study it would take to achieve such a thing. But that was what Gale had devoted his life to.
“Yes, precisely!” Gale said, a smile splitting his face. “That was what I wanted to show you. To share with you,” he explained, a light of hopefulness in his eyes. “If you’re interested, that is. I know it’s been a long day, and–”
“I’d love to,” Tav cut him off, smiling in the face of Gale’s excitement. She detected a bit of nervousness in him too, an eagerness to please her. Tav hoped she was interpreting it correctly.
“Excellent! Let’s begin,” Gale said, moving to stand next to her. He demonstrated a motion with his hands that Tav easily replicated, and had her speak a phrase in an arcane language. That took a little more time; Tav was certain there was no difference between what she’d said and what she’d heard from Gale, but he insisted on her making several attempts before he declared it was right.
“There’s one last piece,” Gale said. “Connecting to the Weave itself, drawing on its power and channeling it through your movements and words. This, typically, is where things get tricky,” he admitted with a grin. “But I’ll be your conduit, I’ll let the Weave flow through me into you until you feel it. Ready?” he asked.
Tav nodded. She wasn’t sure what she would be feeling, or how he proposed to accomplish sending the Weave into her, but she figured that wasn’t really the important bit. Tav had no aspirations to become a wizard. In fact, the Fey she served might well take offense if she began getting magic like that on her own. This exercise was something Gale wanted to share with her, and that was what mattered to Tav. The man had a warm exterior, and was friendly and courteous, but Tav knew that there was something more there, something deep within Gale’s heart that he didn’t show to just anyone. She wanted him to let her in. She wanted to be close to him.
Gale stood beside her, his hand resting lightly on her shoulder as she performed the gesture he’d just taught her. But this time it felt different. She could feel something there now, all around her, suffusing the air. It smelled like grass dried by the sun, felt like the first glimpse of home after a long journey. Tav felt her chest tighten, her breath taken away by something profound and beautiful. And as she opened herself to the feeling, let it flow into and through herself, lights bloomed in the air between her hands. Violet and orange, they shone in the dim air like a sunset. Tav gasped quietly.
It wasn’t just the magic; she was no stranger to magic by now. It was the Weave coursing through her veins, wrapping around her like a warm hug. If this was what it felt like, she finally understood why wizards were so often hungry for power. It was intoxicating.
She stood, suspended in time for a moment, Gale’s hand still resting on her shoulder, before she became aware of his thoughts. They were connected now, both floating on the Weave together, only a thin veil separating their minds. Tav turned to him, still enraptured by the feeling of it all. She could feel the elation in his chest; his pride at her having mastered the trick so quickly, his joy at being able to share this with her. Tav looked into his eyes and saw real tenderness there. She wondered for a moment what he would do if she reached out and put her arms around him.
A flash of surprise came to her from Gale’s mind, followed in rapid succession by embarrassment, shyness, regret…and a profound yearning. But then Gale severed the connection, and Tav was back in the real world. Gale moved his hand from her shoulder and took a step back, unable to hold eye contact.
It was an adjustment to bring her mind back to the present moment; without the influence of the Weave, the world seemed dimmer, somehow, like she had lost the ability to see the full range of color. Tav blinked and wrenched her senses back into place, feeling embarrassment creep upon her as she realized what she’d done, what she’d allowed Gale to see.
“Forgive me, I– I forgot to warn you how intoxicating it can be, the first few times,” he said with a nervous chuckle. “I…that was…” He smiled, finally bringing his gaze up to meet hers. Tav hoped the dim torchlight hid how furiously she was blushing now. “A surprising thought. But not an unwelcome one,” Gale said gently.
Tav tried to smile, to play off her awkwardness. She couldn’t stop thinking about that flash of emotion she’d sensed in him; a desire so tinged with melancholy it made her want to weep. A yearning for something he believed he could never have. Why had he broken their connection, pushed her away? Tav knew, rationally, that everyone had secrets, that no mortal could ever fully comprehend another. That was the blessing and curse of life. But nevertheless, she wanted to know Gale better. If he would let her.
“You did remarkably well,” Gale went on, changing the subject. “Perhaps you should send some inquiries to the university at Waterdeep! There’s no telling what you could accomplish!” he laughed.
Tav, as eager to put the embarrassing moment behind them as he was, laughed along. “If this whole adventuring thing doesn’t pan out, maybe I’ll try it,” she joked. “Thank you for showing me that. I’ll admit, when we began I sort of thought you just wanted to give me a lecture on the Weave,” she confessed.
Gale laughed. “Well, I could do that as well. A lot of wizardry is terribly dry, I’ll admit. But…nothing quite compares to the first time you fully embrace the Weave,” he said, looking at her with a rapturous expression. “I’m glad I got to share that with you.”
Tav smiled at him, disarmed by the sincerity of his expression. “Me too. Goodnight, Gale.”
He took her hand, stopping her as she moved to turn away. “I…” he faltered. After some hesitation, he seemed to change his mind. “Goodnight, Tav,” he said simply, squeezing her hand before letting go.
She didn’t press him, didn’t ask what he’d wanted to say. She hoped he’d tell her when he was ready. She hoped a lot of things.