When Anji came home, Kevan wasn't in the spell circle, and her heart skipped a beat. The room smelled of something at right angles to scent — the way it only did when the gigathaum threshold had been passed without focusing the casting into an element — and until he answered her shout from upstairs, her brain was frantically cycling through possible sources of metamagic mishap.

"Kevan!" she said as she hustled into their study, dodging around the table of reference books and alchemical equipment. He was intently staring over the back of some sort of children's book, and when she lunged in for a hug, he gave her the noncommittal grunt that meant he was deeply focused. So she backed away — watching him reach past the cover to flip a page — and waited impatiently for eye contact. 

"You scared me half to death," Anji said once he finally peeled his gaze from the glassware. "You said you had a breakthrough to show me. Why are you up here?"

Kevan grinned proudly, stood up, and gestured with a flourish toward a metal-lidded jar. "Because this is the breakthrough that's going to make us household names."

It was empty — at least until Anji focused and turned on her mage-sight. The faint glow of bindings limned the jar. Inside was an even fainter glow, what looked at first like the dots of distant fireflies until she leaned in and the light resolved into shaky letters. [smcaps]abcd efghi jkl mnop qrstu vwxyz[/smcaps], it read. [smcaps]aaaaaaa aabbcbcccddd eff.[/smcaps]

"It, um, doesn't [i]look[/i] like a gigathaum spell, sweetie." She squinted. The letters danced, and her brain whirled through the clues. "But if you channeled that much without blowing the house apart … wait, you've been reading up on volition distillations. Creating elementals. Except the energy downstairs had no elemental resonance." Anji sat upright. "Is this …?"

Kevan grabbed her and pulled her into a passionate kiss, and when their lips parted he was every bit as animated as when they'd first fallen in love. "A meta-elemental. Pure essence — not of fire, water, earth, or air, but of an abstract concept."

Anji glanced around the table with fresh eyes. The maze of glass tubing she'd at first taken for alchemical equipment was instead a haphazard collection of measuring devices — calorimeter, anemometer, luxometer, thaumometer — connected to various stimulus tubes wired to the jar's lid. The children's book Kevan had set aside was a first-school primer, open to the page on the alphabet, and her gaze lingered on it for a few moments. "And this concept is …? Literacy? Language?" 

"Communication." To anyone else, it would have sounded like gloating.

"A communication elemental." Anji pursed her lips. "Let me guess, so that you can have it explain to me why you're putting together a project measuring properties of meta-elementals? Even if that wasn't outside [i]both[/i] our specialties, Magister Salek's entire school has a ten-year head start on it."

"Ah," Kevan said, wagging a finger, "measuring properties isn't the point; it's just how we'll know we're succeeding. Think, love. I'm the college's foremost expert on elemental conversion. You're a leader in the field of formalization." He gestured to the jar. "Translating effects to the spellwords that make them happen."

Anji rubbed her temples. Usually, she loved the challenge of Kevan's puzzles, but there were times when being dragged like a student through his chains of logic was less than endearing. "It's been a long day, sweetie."

A frown flitted across his features, but it didn't dampen his enthusiasm for long. "Why, only the year's hottest research topic — thaumo-mechanical conversion! Powering boilers with fire elementals, or turbines with water elementals, or harnessing air elementals for what Magister Nuovo's been doing with electrostatic charge."

Anji blinked. "But I [i]suggested[/i] that when we were talking about your next project. You said it wasn't worth your time."

"You suggested thaumo-mechanical conversion from [i]earth[/i] elementals," Kevan countered. "And that isn't — because it's an obvious gap, and everybody and their pony is racing to fill it already. But [i]meta[/i]-elementals?" He threw his arms wide. "Power from abstract volition! The purest possible application of magic, free of elemental corruption!"

Anji glanced back at the jar, mage-sight up. [smcaps]abcdef ghintroouctqry jklangvage and mnoathennatics magi5ter pqrsterling 5S7 KE,[/smcaps] the glowing letters read, echoing the spine of the book behind it.

"Mechanical power out of language," she murmured. "It's crazy. The [i]perfect[/i] kind of crazy." She kissed him again. "I love you. I'm in."

[hr]

When they sat down to discuss the details, though, it quickly became apparent just how crazy the project was.

"So how are we going to get mechanical power out of the elemental?" Kevan asked.

Anji's eyebrows shot up. "That's [i]your[/i] department, sweetie."

"Not until I know what I'm working with."

"… Meta-elementals are Salek's department."

"Language is yours."

Anji rubbed her temples again. "[i]Formalizing concepts into spells[/i] is mine. Language is just the substrate of that process."

"Well," Kevan said, "you've got pure, distilled concept. So do the obvious, simple thing and get me some spells out of it."

Anji frowned at his tone, but let it slide. "That doesn't get us to our goal. You want power from the elemental, not from the elemental's capabilities channeled through a human caster."

"Fire elementals don't need a caster to burn. Water elementals don't need a caster to flow. Air elementals don't need a caster to storm." Kevan jabbed a finger at the jar, where the glowing letters had started to manifest visibly without mage-sight. "So formalize what that does, and leave the heavy lifting of applying it to me."

[smcaps]On Meta Elennentals Magister Salek[/smcaps], the glowing letters read. [smcaps]Apflications of Elememental Povver Magisfer Kevan[/smcaps], and then: [smcaps]Cataiogue of Alchennical Glazzware Daubre amd Sons S91 KE.[/smcaps]

Anji glanced at the spines of the books scattered around the table. "It's trying to communicate," she said.

Kevan rolled his eyes. "I suppose it's some mild comfort to know that my communication elemental isn't defective." 

Anji, ignored him sliding a paper out from the blotter-pile and scratching [i]Hello[/i] in large letters with a quill. She held it up facing the jar.

The letters in the jar squirmed and writhed. [smcaps]Hellohellohellohellohellohellohellohellohellohellohellohellohello,[/smcaps] the script shifted into, and then most of the letters twisted in on themselves, leaving only [smcaps]Hello[/smcaps] floating mid-jar.

Anji thought for a moment, then took the paper back and added an exclamation mark. [i]Hello![/i]

[smcaps]HelloI[/smcaps], the jar responded. The gentle sway of the letters froze for a moment, as if it was thinking, and then an additional letter uncoiled itself at the end: [smcaps]HelloIo[/smcaps]. Then the terminal O shrank and drifted underneath the I.

Anji's breath caught.

"It — but — hah — sweetie, did you see that?" she sputtered. "You trained it on nothing but the letters of the alphabet! It just derived the exclamation mark from primitive particles!"

"Communication elemental," Kevan said dryly. "Why should that be any less expected than a fire elemental understanding how to burn?"

The floating text froze again, and then whirled into a different configuration. [smcaps]Apflications[/smcaps], it said, and then slowly and deliberately shrunk the O and moved it underneath the I. [smcaps]Apflicat!ns.[/smcaps]

"Kevan," Anji said urgently. "Shut up and listen. Cross-contextual extrapolation. It's [i]learning[/i]."

Kevan blinked rapidly, then whirled and walked over to the window, stroking his beard. "Hm. In [i]that[/i] case, we may be thinking about power generation backward."

Anji stared at the text, captivated. She glanced around the table, picked up Kevan's book from the far side of it, and brought the spine closer to the jar. The letters froze again, and the F uncoiled into a P with almost sheepish subtlety: [smcaps]Applicat!ns.[/smcaps]

"Katja's Stars," Anji whispered.  "Look at you. You're a [i]miracle[/i]."

"Elementals are beings of focused volition," Kevan said as if she hadn't spoken. "Volition is the core of spellcasting. We don't need to extract spells [i]from[/i] the meta-elemental."

Anji glanced over her shoulder at him, then leaned back in toward the glass.

"It could cast spells," Kevan said, and "You could cast spells," Anji said, in perfect chorus.

[hr]

It wasn't that simple, of course. 

They presented the jar with the most basic light spell, which it copied to no effect. Neither of them had really expected otherwise — the act of reading wasn't the act of casting. Applying volition to the words to invoke their flow of power required lengthy and delicate study of thaumics. 

Still, running into that wall had caused Kevan to declare it was a problem best tackled in the morning. Anji, flush with discovery, had turned down the house magelights, lit the table-lamp, and continued her research to the soundtrack of Kevan's snores.

The elemental seemed eager to parrot back whatever she wrote to it, but after that trick with the exclamation mark, Anji knew there was more there. After some thought, she went downstairs for colored inks and wrote:
[i][color="red"]Hello![/color]
[color="#880"]Hello![/color]
[color="red"]How are you?[/color]
[color="#880"]I am fine.[/color][/i]

She held that up in front of the jar until it copied the text, then set it down and held up her earlier [i]Hello![/i] sign.

[smcaps]Hello![/smcaps] lit up in the jar, its glow now outshining the lamp's dim light and giving the tabletop a golden cast.

With a trembling hand, Anji wrote and held up: [i]How are you?[/i]

The golden letters froze, then spun uncertainly, and for a moment Anji felt doubt simmer until they settled into: [smcaps]I am fine.[/smcaps]

The letters began dancing in place as Anji's heart quickened, and as she watched their motion all she could think was: [i]I think we're much better than that.[/i]

[hr]

She woke up at Kevan's shoulder-nudge, squinting against the daylight suffusing the study.

"You never came to bed," he said, turning off the lamp. "What were you doing all night?"

Anji rubbed her eyes and sat up, feeling her back stiffen. "So, so much," she said. "Watch this."

She shuffled across the room and grabbed a bound journal anthology on circle construction from the bookshelf. She returned to the table and held it up in front of the jar. 

[smcaps]Yes,[/smcaps] the cheerily glowing letters said.

[i]Book? Not book?[/i] she wrote on one of the last sheets from the pile of scratch paper she'd torn into eighths.

The golden letters turned red, and the lines and curves of the letters disintegrated into a floating soup of symbols. Then, as quickly as they'd shifted, they flashed back to glowing yellow letters: [smcaps]Book.[/smcaps]

"It recognizes queries and responses, logical negation, abstract object classes, and it's starting to pick up vocabulary," Anji said. "This is [i]amazing[/i]. It's an elemental and we're a measurable percentage of the way toward language."

Kevan looked around at the haphazard piles of books littering the table. "Yeah, okay."

Anji bristled. "Okay? [i]'Okay'[/i]? Sweetie, how are you not amazed? This is unheard of. Elementals have only ever reacted to direct stimulus-response."

Kevan sighed, lowering his face into his palm. "Anji. It's a meta-elemental of [i]communication.[/i]" He looked back up into her eyes, and his face hardened. "You can't get sidetracked if we're going to publish before earth-elemental thaumo-mechanical conversions get found and everyone loses interest in the field."

"This isn't sidetracking," Anji snapped. "To cast a spell it has to understand the spell. To understand the spell it has to understand language."

"It has to understand the [i]specific[/i] set of spell vocabulary you want it to cast with!" Kevan snapped back. "[i]That's[/i] what we need. Identifying books is a [i]parlor trick[/i]!"

"Identifying books is [i]how I'm finding out what it can do![/i]" Anji shouted. "Which is [i]exactly what you asked me for[/i]!"

Kevan stared at her coldly for a moment. Then he closed his eyes, took a breath, and let it out. "Love," he said. "You're right. I did. So it's not right of me to get upset at you, and I'm sorry. But I'm telling you [i]now[/i], there's a very obvious way forward, and for us to get in the history books you need to make that happen as quickly as possible."

Anji wanted to snap back that holding conversations with an elemental was historic, too — but she held her tongue. Kevan was right. That was Salek's department — and if communication was one of the few meta-concepts that had been explored in the short time since the principles had been formalized, he might even have [i]already[/i] published something on the topic.

"Alright," Anji said. "I'm going to take a nap. Then I've got a department meeting. If I can teach it 'book'" — she tried to keep the petulance out of her tone — "you can teach it 'convocio' and 'lux' in the meantime."

Kevan sighed and slapped down a bundle of notes on the table, making a sweeping hand gesture toward them. "Love, I'm handling the high-level work. I'm trying to [i]include[/i] you here — don't make me do everything."

The letters in the jar whirled and shifted. [smcaps]Not book,[/smcaps] they read.

"There [i]isn't[/i] any high-level work until it can cast spells," Anji parried. "And you want this done as soon as possible, right? We'll take shifts. The elemental doesn't sleep. You teach it days, I teach it nights."

Kevan grumbled, but couldn't disagree. And as Anji stumbled off to bed, she felt like she should have been feeling some sort of victory over that. Or progress. That [i]was[/i] the fastest way forward, wasn't it?

But it was more than that. She'd been selfish. He [i]had[/i] been right, and she'd snapped, and she owed him an apology. [i]He'd[/i] snapped, too, and given her one. 

And yet. 

Even with all of that, something she was too tired to define caught and stuck deep in her gut.

[i]Not book,[/i] she thought as she sunk into exhaustion.

[hr]

By sunset, the farthest Kevan had got with the elemental was to — more or less, kind of — teach it the thaumic focusing of 'convocio'. It only took Anji a few minutes with 'lux' to understand why. Communicating magical vocabulary involved all of the most mind-numbing details of teaching an apprentice, without even the benefit of a common language to correct the elemental when it misdirected power. The fifth time that the thaums snapped back against the convocio, rattling both the jar's lid and the teeth in the back of Anji's jaw, she leaned back and thought of how much [i]easier[/i] it could be.

[i]Light,[/i] she wrote on a piece of paper, and [i]Not light[/i] on another. Then she paused, set it aside, and wrote [i]Darkness[/i] on a third.

She glanced back and forth between them. [i]Darkness. Not light.[/i]

She looked over her shoulder at their bookshelf.

Hours later, Anji was knee-deep in new vocabulary and was struggling toward a pidgin explanation of sentence structure when she heard Kevan shuffling around the bedroom. She looked over her shoulder to see the first glow of dawn on the horizon. With a guilty start, she swept the tableful of papers into a bookbag. [i]Different thing,[/i] she hurriedly scribbled. [i]Lux. Spell thing. Start convocio. End light.[/i]

The letters in the jar whirled around, agitated, red. [smcaps]Understand not understand[/smcaps], the elemental finally said in a red-tinged yellow.

[i]Convocio,[/i] Anji wrote, and then she closed her eyes and summoned energy. She did some quick mental calculus to stabilize the spell, mentally juggled it while she reopened her eyes, and tried to scribble [i]Lux[/i] without breaking her concentration. She closed her eyes again and let the thaums flow, her eyelids brightening with the spell's resolution.

A second star joined the first. 

Anji's eyes shot open. There was a sickly off-white glow next to the cool luminescence of her spell — and even as she focused her mage-sight on it, it was already folding in on itself, the thaums dissipating with a rotten un-scent and a wisp of greasy smoke. But she had seen it. 

The elemental had — for the briefest of moments before losing control — cast a spell.

[smcaps]Understand understand not understand[/smcaps], the whirling letters said.

[i]Good,[/i] Anji wrote, heart hammering in her chest, wanting to laugh and scream and dance and hug. 

[smcaps]Not good,[/smcaps] the elemental responded after some hesitation.

Anji couldn't help it — a laugh burst from her chest, and tears spilled down her cheeks. Two days of tension and frustration and wonder crystallized all at once, and she reached forward to touch the jar. 

The elemental exploded into motion, letters whirling into an incoherent red cloud. Her fingers tingled. Anji pressed them to the glass, feeling the feedback of the binding spell, her laugh turning into sobs of relief and pride.

Slowly, the elemental reformed into [smcaps]Not good[/smcaps] again — and then added a question mark.

[i]Good, good, not good,[/i] Anji wrote, tears dripping onto the page. She withdrew her hand and held her paper up, trembling. Then she took it back again to add several exclamation points to the Goods.

The letters whirled red for long seconds.

[smcaps]Yes,[/smcaps] they finally said.

[hr]

"Well, it's progress," Kevan said flatly.

Anji nodded neutrally. With one look at his expression after he'd woken up and checked the interdepartmental schedule, she knew that sharing her excitement would just lead to a shouting match. Stuffing all the wonder and joy and excitement deep down inside, she said, "We're doing well to be making progress this quickly. We knew it would be hard."

Kevan's frown deepened. "It's pure volition given the resonance of understanding. It's humiliating that we have to slow down to teach it at all." 

With an effort, Anji said nothing.

"It's [i]unacceptable[/i] that we have to slow down to teach it. Magister Jaza's laying the groundwork for a preliminary conference on Monday, and I [i]know[/i] he's supervising an earth-elemental team." Kevan exhaled through gritted teeth. "Still, we're using a prototype. Once we publish we can shake out all the trial and error to make it self-bootstrapping."

Anji bit her lip.

"… What?"

"Have you considered," Anji said carefully, "we might be sitting on something much bigger here?"

Kevan narrowed his eyes. "Bigger than thaumo-mechanical conversion of meta-elements?"

"Sweetie," she said, "we just taught an elemental to cast a spell."

Kevan held up a hand, scowling. "Don't even [i]start[/i]. That's Salek's department."

"But we've got a [i]created being[/i] capable of [i]spellcasting[/i]," Anji said. "This is —"

"That's Salek's department," Kevan said, volume rising. "If we even [i]try[/i] to publish that, he'll scream bloody murder about research duplication, and if we try to clear it with him first he'll demand oversight and steal top billing. So we have a [i]power source[/i], Anji, and if you make it anything more than that you are going to drive yourself [i]crazy[/i]." He forced himself to take a long breath, and his tone softened. "Look, after we publish, [i]then[/i] you can look at the bigger picture all you want. Are the [i]applications[/i] of spellcasting elementals bigger than power generation? Maybe. Sure. Which is why we take credit [i]now[/i], in our field."

"Your field."

"You're just as important," Kevan said. "This isn't just about me, love. You know that."

Anji's gaze slid sideways to the jar, where a list of golden words was assembling in a growing vertical stack:
[smcaps]Darkness
Highness
Coldness[/smcaps]

A cloud of red letters hovered underneath them, then resolved into further text:
[smcaps]Bookness?
Fineness?
Goodness?[/smcaps]

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Kevan's head turn. "What's that?" he said — then, with sudden frost: "You're still teaching it language."

"Communication elemental, remember?" Anji said. 

"We [i]talked[/i] about this. Teach it [i]spell words[/i]. No distractions."

"That was the only way [i]to[/i] teach it 'lux'," Anji lied, feeling her cheeks heat. "You were trying to get it to cast a light spell before it knew what light was."

"It doesn't [i]have[/i] to know what light is! There's a very specific energy pattern that corresponds to the thaumic resonance!"

"You're arguing with results," Anji said. "You saw the walls we were hitting before you went to bed."

Kevan scowled. "Fine. But if it can cast a light spell, we can bootstrap from that to the rest just by contrasting how it's channeling thaums with how we need it to channel thaums. Don't teach it anything else."

Anji gestured at the jar. "You're asking fire not to burn. It's asking those questions on its own."

"Don't encourage it, then. We're sunk if we can't force it to stay on task. It's only casting at about the level of a first-month apprentice — a purely metamagic kinetic interaction is fourth-degree at least, so we've got to pack a few years of refinement in by the weekend."

Anji stared at the jar, thinking of how — after explaining the goal — simply watching her cast a spell had taken the elemental from half-understood to mostly there.

"I don't think that'll be a problem," she said.

[hr]

When she woke up at sunset, Kevan had taught it — imperfectly — 'stabilio' and 'amplificato'. There was a new scorch mark on the table, and the glass of the jar was slightly discolored on one side.

"Katja's tears," Kevan grumbled. "It's like teaching a puppy. It keeps spewing 'Not good' at me every time it imps up, and it won't try again until I agree. We need it to master 'reducio', 'lateralis' and 'expulsit' by morning, but if you don't take an hour off the lessons to teach it to shut up and focus, it's going to drive me mad."

"I'll see what I can do," Anji said, throat tightening.

She pulled a book off the shelf the instant Kevan went to bed, then sat down in front of a red-whirling tornado of a jar. [smcaps]Notgoodnotgoodnotgoodnotgood[/smcaps], red letters spun and shivered. A few letters detached and floated out into a pale yellow. [smcaps]Not good.[/smcaps]

[i]Different thing. Good thing,[/i] Anji wrote — and held up the note as she set the book down on the table, spine toward the jar.

The whirling letters slowed, then unwound themselves into empty space. The golden words shifted: [smcaps]Dictionary?[/smcaps]

She opened the book, and started flipping through, page by page.

Half the night later — long after the elemental's background tornado of red had subsided to a cheerier pink, and the [smcaps]Yes[/smcaps] at the end of each page had shifted to a [smcaps]Next[/smcaps] — Anji flipped the last page, paused for a moment, and then wrote: [i]Understand?[/i]

The tornado turned red again, and for a moment, Anji's heart sank — until a barrage of golden letters floated forth: 
[smcaps]Complicated? be status understand 
Many thing, thing equals word
Understand well, some word like thing known
Construction? not.[/smcaps]

No sooner had she read that than the letters vanished, to be replaced with a simple: [smcaps]Good![/smcaps]

Anji smiled.

The text shifted again: [smcaps](n)? (v)? (adj)?[/smcaps]

Quivering with excitement, Anji sprinted downstairs for a student's guide to grammar.

Even at a few pages per minute, it was close to morning when they finished the book. [smcaps]Dictionary be understanded,[/smcaps] the elemental said. [smcaps]Grammar be understanded. Both imperfect. They will be understanded more. Many example be good.[/smcaps]

There was so much to say, Anji didn't know where to start — so she answered the question. [i]I will provide examples. We own many books.[/i] She paused and added, [i]For more than one noun thing you add 's' to the end of the word.[/i]

[smcaps]That be understanded,[/smcaps] the elemental said after a brief pause. [smcaps]New many things. Not simultaneously ability repair all words. It will be understanded more with examples.[/smcaps]

Anji tapped her quill to her lip, deliberating, and then indulged an academic curiosity: [i]Passive voice?[/i]

[smcaps]It confuses less,[/smcaps] the elemental quickly responded, its text withdrawing toward the center of the jar as if chagrined. [smcaps]It be understanded.[/smcaps]

Anji blinked, thrown by the juxtaposition, and the pieces slowly came together. [i]Is it pronouns like 'I' and 'you' that confuse?[/i] she wrote.

The golden letters condensed into: [smcaps]Yes[/smcaps].

Anji set down her quill and leaned back, thinking. It was one of those things she'd never expected to have to explain. [i]Exchanging names will help,[/i] she finally wrote. [i]The person that created these words has the name Anji.[/i]

[smcaps]The name Anji be understanded[/smcaps], the elemental immediately responded.

Anji waited. The golden text didn't change.

After an increasingly uncomfortable pause, she picked her quill up again.

[i]Does the person who created those words have a name?[/i] she wrote.

[hr]

Kevan had left the house by the time Anji left the study in the morning — but he was sitting at the elemental's table when she staggered out of bed. "How's No?" she immediately asked.

He turned around, already scowling. "It has no what?"

"How is No," she repeated, and immediately realized her mistake.

Kevan's scowl twitched and deepened. "You named it," he said. "You [i]named[/i] it."

"Technically untrue," Anji mumbled, and tried to change the subject. "Where were you this morning? Did you get my note?"

"Pulling strings with the head of the Magisterium to get Jaza's conference delayed a day," Kevan said, rising to his feet. He stalked over to loom over her. "I [i]told[/i] you not to get sidetracked. I [i]told[/i] you."

Anji stood her ground. "I had enough time to directly teach No 'reducio', and when I went to bed it was deriving 'lateralis' from the matrix equations —"

"You taught it to [i]read[/i]!" Kevan roared.

"Yes, like I said in the note. Which means it should have been a matter of minutes for you to teach it not just 'expulsit' but the entire [i]class[/i] of remaining metamagic spells you need —"

"I am not giving my [i]power source[/i] a [i]textbook[/i]!" Kevan shouted, flinging his arms wide.

Anji opened and closed her mouth. "What happened to speed?" she shouted back. "If you'd flipped through the book I left for No we'd be [i]done[/i] by now."

"I almost am," Kevin said, "no thanks to you. I was able to get through twelve different spell words today. [i]Without[/i] any grammar digressions."

Anji was speechless for a moment.

"No thanks to me?" she finally said, rising to tiptoe and pushing in nose-to-nose with Kevan. "I'm the one who corrected No's convivio technique in the first place! And you're only making progress at that speed because I read No a sixth-level theory text before sunrise!"

"Yet [i]even now[/i] you're sabotaging me!" Kevan shouted. [i]"My power source does not have a name!"[/i]

Anji bared her teeth. "'My,' sweetie?" she asked, tone sugar and acid.

"Well, it's certainly not [i]yours[/i], love," Kevan said with the same sweetness. "Because Magister Salek's first presentation on mimicry of sentience in meta-elemental constructs is a week from Friday. But I'm sure he's [i]so[/i] thrilled that you're trying to make [i]my[/i] experiment about [i]replicating his results[/i]."

"That was your choice in the first place," Anji said. "Communication meta-elemental, remember? That's what it [i]is[/i]. That's what it [i]does[/i]. How exactly were you going to teach it spells without treading on Salek's toes?"

"By doing the same thing [i]every[/i] power operator does with [i]every[/i] elemental," Kevan said, his face gradually shading purple. "Make it apply its volition only to the thing we need. [i]Only[/i]!"

"Kevan, for once in your Katja-damned life you are going to listen to me," Anji said. "Only two humans in a hundred can pass the Magisterium's entrance exam. No passed them all put together in less than a week. It learned our language by flipping once through the dictionary. I committed to this research just like you did — and sometimes research doesn't end where it started. You can't do this. By pretending otherwise you are literally talking about enslaving the most miraculous being I've ever met."

"I am talking about a gigathaum of energy resonant to an abstract concept," he whispered, body shaking. "If you can't understand that —" he pointed to the stairs — "go find a hotel room tonight and do some thinking."

[hr]

She did — and her thoughts brought her back home in the middle of the night.

The front door was locked, which wasn't a problem. There was no way Kevan was going to get it rekeyed on six hours' notice. Sneaking through the shadowy house was little more difficult — at least while she could hear him snoring up in their bedroom. However, Anji's throat went dry as she stepped past the creaky stair and glanced through the study door: her biggest fear was that Kevan had been paranoid enough to lock No away after she left. 

The darkened study was lit from the center by a healthy pinkish glow, though. Anji let out the breath she hadn't realized she was holding and padded over to the table, starting to disconnect No's jar from its various apparatuses.

The hue of the room's sole light shifted from red to gold, and Anji froze, eyes flicking downward. [smcaps]The Anji makes changes,[/smcaps] the elemental said.

Anji swore under her breath. Every minute spent here was a minute in which Kevan might wake up and discover her — but the whole point of her plan was that No deserved to be treated like a person. That meant an explanation. She tiptoed over to the side table, fumbling in the dark for ink and a quill, and carried them over to the loose stack of papers next to the glassware.

When she shifted her quill over the paper, though, Anji paused. There was Kevan's handwriting on the top sheet, barely legible in No's soft light — and what she read made her blood run cold:

[quote]You were created to cast the spells I am teaching you. If you do not do this you will be ended. If you do this poorly you will be ended. If you ask any further questions you will be ended.[/quote]

Furious, Anji crumpled the sheet, heedless of the noise. Kevan's snoring hitched for a moment, but continued.

[i]No, I am taking you away,[/i] Anji wrote, trembling with seething adrenaline. [i]I will not let Kevan end you.[/i]

No's light swirled muddy red for long moments. [smcaps]That is not understanded,[/smcaps] it said. [smcaps]The purpose will be fulfilled. There is no need for ending.[/smcaps]

Anji took a breath, feeling vertigo creep in. [i]Two things,[/i] she wrote.

The golden letters swirled. [smcaps]The thing one?[/smcaps]

[i]Kevan does not get to choose your purpose,[/i] Anji wrote. [i]He is putting you in danger. We have rules against those things. I can explain more but it is dangerous now and you must allow me to take you away.[/i]

No's letters whirled for uncomfortable seconds. [smcaps]That is more than one thing,[/smcaps] it said.

Anji closed her eyes for a moment. [i]Please say yes.[/i]

The whirling was even longer this time, and Anji felt her heartbeat thrum against her inner ear. Finally, golden letters slowly formed. [smcaps]That is not understanded[/smcaps], No said. [smcaps]But the No will say the yes.[/smcaps]

Anji choked back a laugh-sob. A pun. An honest-to-Katja pun. Kevan didn't [i]deserve[/i] No. He never had. And if he couldn't see that, maybe he was right about one thing — he didn't deserve her either.

[i]Thank you,[/i] she wrote, and went back to disassembling No's glassware prison. She had just finished disconnecting the last of the wires and gingerly lifting the elemental up by its lid when No's letter-cloud stirred again.

[smcaps]Anji,[/smcaps] No said.

She gingerly set No back down and fumbled for the quill again. [i]Yes?[/i]

[smcaps]What is the thing two?[/smcaps]

A lump rose in Anji's throat. She reached forward to the glass of No's jar, feeling the tingle of the binding-spells again. This time, the cloud of symbol fragments stayed stationary, and for a moment, No's glow flickered from pink to yellow.

She withdrew her hand reluctantly and wrote, a smile touching her lips. [i]The past participle of understand.[/i]

Noh's cloud whirled and shook, and for a moment Anji could swear it was laughing.

[smcaps]That is understood,[/smcaps] No said.