The Journeyman smiled and said: “Have you seen the technique of Braithe?”

“Ah, yes, I believe he calls it: Sculpt as though you really mean it.”

“Yes, that’s the one. Have you tried it?”

“No.” The master replied “I’ve only heard about it. Have you?”

“Indeed, I have done this several times at the Clay Retreats. Would you like me to show you?”

The Master smiled and nodded. “I’d very much like to see this technique.” And then to the Apprentice: “Come over here and work with us boy, you’ll learn something new.”

The Apprentice set down the work we was doing and moved over to sit down with the other two. It was clear that he found this very exciting.

The Journeyman reached into his bag and pulled out a wad of slick, pliable, Clay. The Apprentice was pleasantly surprised. Though he had worked with this kind of Clay before, it had been a while. He and the Master had lately been working with a brown Clay that was duller and stiffer than this.

The Master said: “Let’s use my wheel.” The Master’s wheel was delicate and ornate, sporting many knobs, levers, and other forms of calibration and adjustment.

The Journeyman paused ever so slightly. “Oh. Well… certainly. That will be a good experience for me. I usually just use a little portable wheel that I keep in my pack. Yes, by all means, let’s use your wheel.”

It took some time to get the Clay situated just right on the Master’s wheel. Powerful though it was, getting the adjustments and balance just right was a painstaking process. But soon, the wheel was spinning and the Clay was balanced and ready.

“I suggest we sculpt: Horton’s Mage of Feil.” Said the master.

“An excellent choice.” Replied the Journeyman. We’ll never finish it in this session, but that’s not the point.”

“Indeed not!” intoned the Master. “Shall I begin?”

The master stopped the spinning of the wheel, and began to shape the rough outline of the Mage.

“Why are you shaping the Mage?” The Journeyman asked, grinning.

The Master stopped and smiled sheepishly. “Why indeed? I’ve gotten ahead of my self. I am informing the Clay, rather than letting the Clay inform me.” He turned to the Apprentice and said: “In the style of Braithe we do not tell the Clay what shape to take, we allow the Clay to tell us what shape it desires.”

“But how can Clay tell us anything?” The Apprentice blurted.

“Don’t be obtuse boy!” Chided the Master.

The Journeyman put his hands on the Clay and said: “If you will permit me? I will begin with the Mage’s Staff.” His fingers hovered over the Clay for a moment, and then he made the slightest groove in the Clay with the tip of his thumbnail. “There.” He said. “That’s the tip of the shaft.”

“Yes,” said the Master staring intently at the Clay. “I can see how the shaft could develop from that beginning; but it’s in the wrong place. It should be more to the right and closer to the top.”

“Should it?” The Journeyman’s face bore that knowing grin again.

“I suppose Braithe would say that Clay is Clay, and will move to where it is needed.”

“Indeed, I believe he would.”

The Master put his hands on the Clay and extended the groove ever so slightly. Then the Journeyman responded in kind. Gradually, the shape of the staff began to appear.

“This is so strange.” The Apprentice complained. “The angle is all wrong. Horton holds his staff high, pointing to the north star, and yet you are forming it as though it were laying on the ground!”

“Interesting, isn’t it.” The Journeyman replied. “It’s hard to imagine how the Mage will appear from this beginning. But the Clay will have it’s way. Just watch.”

Hour after hour, the two craftsmen worked. Even the Apprentice put his hand in occasionally. They always focussed on one area. First the staff, then the hand holding the staff, then the arm for that hand, the elbow, the upper arm, the shoulder, the chain-mail, the saddle, and horse.

Sometimes they’d start a new shape in a part of the Clay that was far from where that shape would eventually end up. Then they would gradually fold the Clay so that the shapes lined up.

And as they worked the angle of the piece gradually changed. By the end of the day, the rear hooves of the horse stood on the wheel. The Mage’s legs strained at the stirups as his body leaned forward and his outstretched arm drove his staff into the sky towards the north star.

The Master noted the angle of the sun. He turned to the Journeyman. “I believe it is time for you to return. The coach leaves at sundown.”

“But the Mage is not finished!” Cried the Apprentice.

“Nor shall this Mage ever be finished.” Said the Master. We shall keep it in this form on our shelves, so that we can study it later.” And the master gingerly removed the partially completed sculpture from the wheel and placed it on a high shelf.

“Thank you for comming.” Said the Master. “I have learned much.”

“As have I.” Said the Journeyman. “Thank you for having me.”

The two men shook hands, eye-to-eye. And then parted company.