A Mage wtih a Message

“Who can give me an example of herbs used in Communication Magic?”
Naya glanced around at the other students in Mage Mariyana’s schoolroom, but none of them raised a hand to answer the Mage’s question.
What did Mariyana call those feathery leaves the other day? She tried to remember the strange name, wrapping a strand of hair around her finger. Amm—
“Ammorana leaves,” Mariyana said, “will enhance your reach when you need to Communicate over long distances. Surely you have heard of that before.”
Naya had not; she wrote the information down. Darla had taught her a different name for that plant. Then again, they had used it only for Healing.
“But Mage Mariyana,” a small girl with two long braids exclaimed, “we don’t all have Communication Magic!”
“As a Healer, you will need to know all the properties of the herbs you use.”
“Mage Mariyana? Why don’t we all have Communication Magic?” a lanky boy asked, his voice breaking mid-sentence.
Naya looked at the boy, tilting her head as she waited for the answer.
The older girl behind him snickered. “Never heard of the Mingling?”
The Mage gave her a stern look, and the girl lowered her eyes.
“For the same reason you do not all have Healing Magic, or Craftsmagic,” Mariyana answered the boy’s question.
He shrugged. “My parents don’t have any Magic, they’re farmers down south, near the coast. It was our local Healer who told them about you and your classes.”
He’s not from Dogan either. That makes five of us, Naya counted.
On her second day in class, she did not yet know all the students’ names, and it had surprised her to learn that several were not Doganites.
She had asked Mariyana about it the night before. “Are there no schools where they live?”
“People send their children to study with me,” the Mage had explained. “I can teach them regardless what Magic they have. That is not the case everywhere. Some Mages only teach Craft, or Healing.”
We’re lucky to be here. And I am even luckier. Naya drew a sketch of an Ammorana leaf beside her scribbled notes as she remembered the conversation.
If Mariyana hadn’t found me before I ran into the Ytobiq border guards, I’d be in an Ytobiq work house now. Or dead, like Darla.