Free Rising From the Ashes: The Chronicles of Caymin by Caren J. Werlinger

not understanding what she meant.
    “No,” said Gai. “You must exert yourself. If you are strong enough, you can force it to do your will. Like this.” His brows knitted in concentration as his flame twirled, spinning faster and faster.
    Ash laid a hand on Diarmit’s arm. “Close your eyes,” she said patiently. “Put yourself in the fire. Feel it move, feel it sway with the breeze. Now, ask it to move with you.”
    Diarmit screwed his face up in concentration, swaying where he sat.
    “Look,” Ash whispered.
    Diarmit opened his eyes to see the flame writhing and dancing. “I did it!”
    Immediately, as he lost his focus, the flame returned to its natural size and shape, but Diarmit did not care. “That was the first time I could do it!”
    “None of us could do it as quickly as you,” Daina said to Ash. She whispered loudly, “It took Gai ages and ages before he could force it to do his will.”
    Gai, who had been watching them closely, frowned, but Ash glowed with Daina’s praise.
    As much as she excelled in controlling fire, able to do so almost without thinking, it was the exact opposite when it came to learning to read and write. Ash struggled, trying to figure out how the symbols scratched into the dirt translated to spoken words. She was fascinated, looking at the scrolls and pages of writing kept by the elders in the meetinghouse, shelves and shelves of them. Some of them had pictures, beautiful drawings with inks in vibrant colors, intricately knotted creatures and lines. Enat sat and read to her for ages, letting Ash trace along with the words. Slowly, she was learning.
    “Be patient,” urged Enat when Ash grew frustrated. “This is not magic. No power can help you, and in this you are not behind the others. Most of our apprentices come from humble beginnings and have never seen writing in their lives. Diarmit has not. Neither did Daina or Cíana before they came here.”
    “Gai has,” Ash said resentfully. “He said his father’s house had many books and scrolls. He had a teacher when he was young.”
    Enat looked at her with some amusement. “Gai had many things growing up that most of us have never had. I certainly had never seen a book or writing before I came here to learn.”
    Ash swallowed her retort. “I forgot. You said you grew up in a family that did not have much.”
    “We’ve few wealthy people in our land.” Enat carefully rolled up the scroll she had been reading from. “You watched the people in the village near your sett. They were farmers and hunters. They did not have wealth. They most certainly did not have books. That is why we tell stories and sing songs. Neela studied for a long time to learn our stories. When most do not know how to read or write, and books are scarce, ’tis the only way we can pass our knowledge and traditions along.”
    Ash was silent as she thought about this.
    “Do not envy Gai the things he had,” Enat said. “He would be the first to say they don’t make up for the things he did not have.”
    Ash snorted. “I do not believe Gai would admit any such thing. Not to me.”
    “Why is there this feeling of ill will between you?”
    Ash opened her mouth to answer but then shut it again. “I do not know.”
    “Could it be that you are jealous?”
    Ash frowned. “I do not understand.”
    “Envious,” Enat explained. “Wishing to have what the other has.”
    Ash flushed. “Perhaps. Gai comes from wealth I cannot imagine.”
    “I did not mean only you,” Enat said. “I meant jealous of each other. Do you think Gai could be jealous of you?”
    Ash’s mouth fell open, and Enat smiled.
    “Why would Gai be jealous of me?”
    “Can you not see why?” Enat tucked the rolled-up scroll securely on its shelf and gathered up her bag. Ash followed her as they made their way back to the cottage.
    “No,” Ash said. “I cannot see any reason why Gai would be jealous of me.”
    Enat walked on in silence for a bit before saying, “You are