Oh, so the tower did have servants then? That was how bathwater got heated as far as Constans was concerned. What a relief! He nodded at her explanations of spell types, not looking at her while he ate but quietly attentive anyway. When she had finished he remained quiet for a little while, mulling over all this new information as well as his answer to her earlier question.
This Harrowing thing... no do-overs? A test that most apprentices would take? Constans smelled a rat, but he wasn't sure quite how to voice his suspicion. Mother wouldn't have approved of this, he knew that. She always said you couldn't learn if you were too afraid of making mistakes to try. Do it over again until you get it right. The Harrowing sounded all wrong.
By now the boy's eyes had dried completely, the red puffiness mostly faded away, but to think of his mother again set him back to his unhappy brooding. The memory of her still felt like the tug of a barbed hook in his heart.
"I know about the types of magic a little bit," Constans admitted, forcing back his more melancholy thoughts. "From books." Books he'd stolen, for the most part. Sometimes he'd even talked to mages, when he dared, peppering them with questions about their magic. Some of the wealthiest noble families kept mages on retainer, whom one might find if one was very lucky, and if he felt particularly enterprising he might even sneak off to the market district to see the Wonders of Thedas. For that privilege he often came home with his hide skinned by the local boys, but... forewarned was forearmed, and he'd always considered the risk a necessary one. He had to learn everything he could. It had been for protection.
"I tried a lot of them, but fire is easiest." He set aside his tray, although he wasn't quite finished, and cupped his hands together in front of his eyes. After a moment he lowered them again, spreading his fingers to display a small orange ball of flame licking between his palms.
"It took me most of a year to stop burning myself on accident, though."