One can be very good at a thing without enjoying it very much. Indeed, sometimes, the ease of a thing makes a barely-tolerable situation worse. For did the Mother not teach that "great joy may be found in hardship and struggle, and hate and sloth in a life of ease"? (Shared Wisdom I, 13:22)
Kamiéra had never enjoyed dancing, he didn't so much reflect as vaguely recall as he stepped forward two perfect paces, his open left hand exactly one hand-span from Zaiera's right. As a boy, he had been on his way out of his awkward phase when he inherited the wishing stone, and had not remotely taken pleasure in trying to be graceful, which very few boys that age are, around girls, around whom every misstep seemed even worse, even if they didn't notice it. His one attempt to learn to slow-dance with Karyn, whom he'd known since preschool, had ended with a trip and an awkward embrace that turns into a critical moment in romcoms but in real life ends with a sprained ankle and trip to the emergency room.
Step back, step back, circle around, circle around, hand off to the next partner.
In his new life, his real life, he was absolutely amazing at it, in part because of natural grace and physique, and in part because dancing for a ball is in its own way like Dancing in battle, and so he had studied and practiced relentlessly at it. He was now better than his sisters, who had been doing this their whole lives.
But it was still boring.
His sisters were no happier, albeit for different reasons. The first, and biggest, was that dancing should be with handsome and eligible or at least clever young men, and they were dancing with each other. One was having to lead and that was no fun at all, because, again, none of them were boys.
The second problem was that they would ordinarily be joking and mock-speaking in deeper voices and playing around the way girls under eighty seasons tend to do when forced to learn something absurdly; but it had been a bad idea to do so for over a month.
The third problem was the cause of the second, because Magistra Amalein had packed up with her children and husband and returned to the capital, both recalled to Court for some reason, and on an expedited basis, too. Amalein had no more than one hundred seasons, and clearly remembered her own time at the Academy well; and so she allowed a certain amount of immaturity as a way to relieve some pressure.
In her place was Magistra Clauga, who had carried the imperial summons and was her replacement as long as Amalein was gone. Her real name was Danaseira dil'Elessendra, and her students called her Magistra Danaseira to her face, when they were allowed to speak at all.
But to her back, she was Clauga.
A clauga is a tree that grows long and straight and slender, and at the peak of its life, grows a single flower; from that flower grows a small bundle of fruit; and the weight of the fruit, when ripe, causes the tree to bend and the fruit to fall off, causing the trunk to whip back into place. While the tree can and will live for decades more, thereafter, it becomes essentially a glorified weed, growing few leaves, no new flowers, and no fruit. Its trunk is harvested for various crafts, as a component in composite bows, and as a nearly perfect hand-whip to be used on recalcitrant children.
Clauga's frequent use of a polished clauga was part of from whence she drew her name. Every tiny infraction led to a perfectly-placed strike on a knuckle, hip, or buttock. Indeed, being too perfect at something was also cause for a strike, which is why Kamiéra had drawn more strikes than any of the other girls. For the Mother teaches that "pride leads to the Chasm, and ease often leads to pride." (Shared Wisdom I, 13:20)
Because her students were also adolescents, there was another reason for her name. Danaseira had been, by all accounts, a striking young woman when she married Rakiele da'Elessendra, a talented but hotheaded Blademage and the heir to his House Seat, an up-and-coming lad in an up-and-coming intermediate House. She had given him three sons, all Gifted (of course; she was a Witchspear, after all), and his death on a suicidal charge against some of the heretics in the South had taken a heavy toll on her spirit and desire to ever be intimate again. She had precious little desire to embrace the Path that took her husband from her, and so had set to the Path of Revelation with a new, hard set to her mouth, never to marry or bear children again.
Teenagers can be cruel if there are no consequences for doing so; and if Clauga knew her nickname, she either didn't care or embraced it.
Kamiéra sort of reflected on this as he took another strike, this time to his left buttock. This class was nearly over for the day, and then he would have to sit on his welts in Tactics, and then again in Etiquette, and then again in Poisons.
And he would because this is how one becomes a Witchspear; and he would excel at that because that is what he did.
And he could imagine a handsome young man dancing with him at least as well as anyone else.
