The Choice of Magic

by Michael G. Manning

  The old man wiped his face, which did little to clean it, but did serve to smear the blood all over his cheeks, giving him a barbaric appearance. “There are no half-fae. I guess I’ve neglected your education in certain matters. The fae can’t have children. Their realm is rife with magic, and it’s thought that besides making them nearly immortal it also renders them unable to reproduce with one another. That’s why they like humans so much.”

  “So you were seduced by one of them?”

  “Oh, hell no!” protested his grandfather. “Her mother was human too, but she gave birth over there. If you’re born there, you grow up fae. Even if you just live there long enough, it will change you, though not as much as if you grow up there. The reverse is true as well, though it never really happens. If one of them gave birth here, the child would be human.”

  Will managed to sit up and regretted it. Everything hurt. “That makes no sense.”

  “I agree with you on that. When I was young, there was a scholar—I think his name was Angus—who spent a lot of time studying them. It was his opinion that the fae realm didn’t originally have any fae in it, that they were the product of people who had gotten lost and trapped there.”

  “So how did she wind up being born there?” asked Will.

  Arrogan scratched his head and when his hand came away, he had another long splinter of wood in his fingers. He tossed it away before answering, “That’s another one of those things that goes firmly under the category of ‘none of your damned business.’”

  Persistent, Will kept probing. “Does it have anything to do with that hat with the antlers?”

  His grandfather stood up, pointedly ignoring him. “Today’s a special day. You’ve made a start at becoming a wizard, and it’s also your first serious attempt at murdering me. That deserves a special meal. What do you think I should cook?”

  Chapter 19

  The next two weeks were unusual. Although Will felt much better the next day, Arrogan insisted he couldn’t resume training for at least a fortnight. “Your will has to recover. While it isn’t something you feel, like a torn muscle or an injured joint, it’s just as serious,” his grandfather had told him. As a result, he had been placed on the wizardly equivalent of light duty, which was a misnomer. Light duty for a wizard was apparently heavy physical labor.

  Arrogan set him to clearing brush that had grown up in the front yard of the house, with strict instructions not to touch the brambles that protected his garden to the rear. When that was done, he was put to work collecting and chopping more firewood for the upcoming winter, even though it was far too early to be worrying about that in Will’s opinion.

  He also had more time to practice his scholarly pursuits, namely reading and math. He didn’t mind the reading, but the math made him long to be doing something else.

  After the first week of ‘light duty,’ Arrogan called him to his bedroom.

  That in itself was unusual; Will had never been permitted to even see what lay beyond the door to his grandfather’s private room. What he discovered shocked him, for the room was easily twice the size of the only other room, the one he had spent the last several years living in.

  It was also clean. Not clean in the way that Will was used to, though. It was spotless, without a speck of dust to be found anywhere. Will couldn’t imagine where his grandfather would have found the time to keep the room in that condition. The man spent almost all of his waking hours outside or in the front room with Will. Another mystery to add to the list, he thought.

  The furnishings were impressive. A massive, four-poster bed dominated one end of the room while an ornate, hand-carved wood desk occupied the other. In between, the walls were dominated by floor-to-ceiling bookcases that were filled with leather-bound tomes of all shapes and sizes.

  “What the hell?” Will blurted out when he first entered.

  “What did you expect?” asked his grandfather.

  He didn’t answer for a second; he was too busy taking in the view. Will’s mouth formed an ‘o’ as his eyes roved back and forth. Then he replied, “Something like the other room, only smaller and smellier.” Pointing at the bed, he complained, “That thing is big enough for three people! Why did I have to sleep on the floor all those months?”

  “Because it’s my damned bed,” retorted the old man. “Get your own.”

  “I can’t believe you,” said Will, disgusted. “You’ve kept me living like a dog while you slept in your little palace.”

  “Wrong tense,” said his grandfather. “You’re still living like a dog. The only reason you’re in here now is because the entrance to my workshop is over there.” He pointed to an expensive-looking rug in the center of the room.

  Ignoring the old man, Will walked closer to examine the bed. The coverlet on top of it was fancier than any other article of bedding he had ever seen. Two large pillows were at the head of the bed, and the material that covered them was of a sort he didn’t recognize. Unable to help himself, he reached over to touch one with his fingers. It was smooth to the touch and softer than anything he had ever felt. “What sort of fabric is this?” he asked.

  “Silk,” stated Arrogan. “Keep your hands off it.”

  Will noticed that the two pillows were different. Both were silk, but while one was fairly simple and undecorated, the other had frills around the edges. “Why do you have two pillows?” He leaned over to pick up the fancier of the two.

  “Stop!” commanded Arrogan, making no attempt to conceal his anger. Will found himself paralyzed once again. “Touch that pillow, and I’ll take your hands off and use them to make bookends.”

  A second later the paralysis ended, and Will stepped away, noting a pained expression on his grandfather’s face. Trying to kill him doesn’t bother him in the least, but threaten his precious pillows and he’s furious, noted Will silently. I’ll never understand the man. He started to say as much, but a second glance at the old man’s face made him uncertain. Reading Arrogan’s expressions was never easy. Is he angry, or something else?

  Arrogan turned away, then bent over and lifted the edge of the rug. Underneath was a trapdoor. He lifted it, exposing a wooden ladder that led below. “The workshop is down here,” he said flatly.

  “You have a cellar?”

  “No, I just like confusing people, so I built a false door in the floor,” responded the old man dryly. With a word, he created a globe of light that hovered above his head and began to descend the ladder. As he went, he waved at Will. “Follow.”

  Will twisted the corner of his mouth up for a second, then answered with obvious sarcasm, “I can’t. You said you don’t have a cellar.”

  “Don’t be a smartass, William.”

  Will followed. “I can’t believe you told me that. You’re the king of smartasses.”

  “I have a gift. It would be a shame not to share it,” said his mentor. “You, on the other hand, should cultivate your own strengths.”

  When they reached the bottom of the ladder, his grandfather made an odd gesture with his fingers, and the magical light split into four parts and flew to the corners of the room where they took up residence in small glass globes mounted on the ceiling. The cellar looked to be as large as both of the upper rooms put together, with stone walls and a tiled floor. Two long, heavy tables, laden with glassware and other oddments, spanned either side of the room.

  Unable to restrain himself, Will finally asked, “Just what are my strengths, in your opinion?”

  “Gullibility and vapid stares,” answered his grandfather immediately. “Thank you for asking.”

  Will groaned.

  “None of that,” said the old man, wagging his finger. “You proved the first trait by asking, and you’re putting on a great show of empty-headed goggling at the room as we speak.”

  Will closed his mouth and crossed his arms, refusing to respond, primarily because he couldn’t think of anything to say that wouldn’t lead to more teasing. After waiting for a few seconds, his grandfather
spoke. “Since you’re unable to formulate a question, I’ll explain. Most of the equipment you see here is for alchemical purposes. Since you’re useless for other training, I thought I’d use this week to teach you a little about alchemy.”

  “Are you going to show me how to make essential oils?” asked Will, remembering a conversation with his mother from years before.

  Arrogan’s brows shot up in surprise, then he shook his head. “Maybe later. First, I think it would be wise teaching you the basics, such as how to measure with a balance scale.” The next half hour was spent in explanation of just that, and Will began to see why he had been forced to learn so many different names for measures. The room contained a number of tools for measuring things by both weight and volume.

  His grandfather also spent an inordinate amount of time discussing safety and showing him where the protective gear was stored. Will learned that for many things he would be expected to wear leather gloves and an apron.

  “Also,” said Arrogan, “before we go any further, I should tell you that while the tables are wooden, they’ve been spelled against fire and caustic substances. Don’t take that as a challenge, though. They’ll still burn if you try hard enough.”

  Will gave him a look of innocent outrage. “What do you think I’m going to do?”

  “I wouldn’t put anything past you,” said his grandfather. “And while we’re on the subject of stupid things you might do, avoid using the emergency exit unless there’s an actual emergency.”

  “Exit?” Will looked around but saw only the ladder and trapdoor they had come in through. “Is there a secret door?”

  “Pay attention,” said Arrogan. “Look closer, near the wall behind that workbench.” He pointed to indicate which bench he was talking about.

  Will saw it then, something like a shimmer in the air, though it wasn’t really visible to his eyes. Walking closer, he moved around the table so he could stand in the spot. His grandfather grabbed the back of his shirt. “I said don’t use it unless there’s an emergency.”

  He realized then that it was another point of congruence, similar to the one he had accidentally used to travel to the fae realm. “I wasn’t going to step through it,” he protested, though in fact he hadn’t been sure what it was at first. “Does it lead to the fae realm?”

  The old man shook his head. “No, that one goes to Muskeglun, a thoroughly unpleasant place.”

  “Muskeglun? What’s that?” asked Will.

  “The poets used to call it the ‘Land of the Hidden Mists,’ but the name is misleading. A better name would have been ‘the shithole.’ While it is invariably foggy and misty there, the place is predominantly a swampy dump suitable only for trolls and other unpleasant denizens,” explained his grandfather.

  He frowned. “Then why did you pick it for your exit?”

  “I didn’t pick it. I found it when I excavated this cellar,” said Arrogan. “You don’t make congruencies; they simply exist. That being said, I’ve found this one rather handy, and if I did have to make a hasty retreat, it’s not the sort of place most people would want to follow.” After a moment he added, “It’s also handy for getting troll piss.”

  “That really was troll urine?” said Will, gaping. “I didn’t think trolls were real.”

  “Maybe I’ll take you with me next time,” said Arrogan, grinning. “I’ll introduce you to Gleg. He’s not bad, as trolls go, which is to say he’s awful, but he’s learned better than to try to eat me.”

  Thoroughly fascinated, Will asked, “How dangerous are they?”

  “Depends on who you are,” said the old man. “I find them to be much more dangerous than the fae, but that’s mainly because they’re stupid. Trolls are difficult to deal with because they’re resistant to magic and they can recover from just about any injury. But I would say that if you were a soldier, or preferably, a bunch of soldiers, trolls would be preferable because at least you can fight them. The fae are impossible for most people to handle.”

  As his mentor lectured, Will found himself wondering about other myths and stories he had heard. “If fairies are real, and trolls are real, are other things from stories real? What about dragons, or dwarves?”

  “A better question would be, are there any other worlds that meet ours at congruencies like this?” offered his teacher. “To which the answer is yes, though no one knows for sure how many there are. Some intersect with our world at thousands of different places, like the fae realm, while others have only one or two known crossing points. Those other worlds have hosts of creatures, known and unknown to us. The dwarves you mentioned live in our world, though they’re seldom seen.” Arrogan stopped then, holding up one hand. “Now you’ve got me digressing. Today I’m going to teach you something practical, one of the most important recipes known to man.”

  Nodding, Will waited patiently.

  “Ink,” began his grandfather, “is one of the keys that led us out of ignorance. I’ll teach you two types, oak gall ink, and soot ink…”

  Will groaned.

  Chapter 20

  Near the end of his two weeks of ‘light duty,’ Will went to visit his mother. He hadn’t seen her in months, and while Erisa was still relatively young, he worried about her living alone. When he got to the front door he stopped, feeling strangely uncertain.

  Do I knock? It was his home after all, but then again, he hadn’t lived there for more than two years. Would he startle his mother if he just walked in? In the end, he knocked, feeling slightly foolish as he did.

  His mother answered the door moments later, her face lighting up when she saw him. “Will! You didn’t have to knock.”

  “I wasn’t sure,” he admitted sheepishly. “I didn’t want to scare you.”

  “It would have been a surprise, but a pleasant one,” she agreed. “Don’t worry, though. I still get lots of visitors from the village, so I’m used to people showing up at odd hours. Come inside. I haven’t cooked, but there’s still leftovers from last night.”

  Grinning, he went in and wasted no time demolishing the bread and cold soup she placed in front of him. He had always loved his mother’s cooking, but tasting it again after so long was a revelation. While her food was far better than what he could make, he was startled to realize that it was far from what his grandfather made. The only thing about it that was superior was the fact that she had included some ham in the soup. His grandfather didn’t raise any animals other than a few chickens or visit the village, so his diet was almost exclusively vegetarian, aside from eggs and butter.

  And I still don’t know how he gets the butter, Will reminded himself, before being struck by a particularly disgusting thought. What if he gets it from the trolls? Is there such a thing as troll-butter, and if so, what is it made from?

  “Is something wrong with the food?” asked his mother, a concerned look on her face.

  Will waved his hands. “Oh! No, not at all. I just thought of something unpleasant, but it had nothing to do with the food.”

  “Worried about Lord Nerrow coming back?” she asked, misinterpreting his remark.

  He had been wondering about that, and since he didn’t want to explain the horrors of his imagination, he simply agreed, “It’s been on my mind.”

  His mother nodded knowingly. “He sent a messenger last week. There’s trouble brewing with Darrow, so he’s too busy to visit personally. The offer is still open, though. You just have to present yourself at the college in Cerria.”

  Will was relieved to know that the nobleman wasn’t coming back, as he still had no idea how to turn the man down. He had already made his decision, and his grandfather had sealed it by tearing up the letter of introduction. “You know how I feel,” he replied.

  Erisa smiled faintly. “I hope it’s the right one. I trust your grandfather, though I worry you’re passing up the chance for a better future. As a licensed wizard, you could become wealthy. You won’t be able to use what you’re learning now without approval from the king.”

>   “I’m more interested in knowing why Lord Nerrow is so insistent,” said Will, giving his mother a direct stare.

  She looked away. “You saved his daughter’s life. Men like him take their debts seriously.”

  “You know what I mean, Mom. Why did he come here to begin with?”

  “I’ve already told you,” answered Erisa, obviously dissembling.

  Pushing his empty bowl away, Will looked at his hands. Her evasiveness made him angry, but he didn’t know how to express it without hurting his mother. “If you don’t want to tell me, just say so. I’d rather hear that than have to pretend I believe the story you’ve made up. I’m not a kid anymore.”

  His mother flinched at his words, and he regretted what he had said almost immediately. “I suppose I deserve that,” she said.

  “I’m sorry, Mom,” he apologized. “I’m just being honest. I hate being kept in the dark.”

  Erisa studied her lap intently, though there was nothing there. “You’ll be seventeen this winter. Another year and you’ll be a man. I can’t keep it from you any longer, but I fear knowing the truth won’t bring you any happiness.”

  “Then?” Deep down, Will had always suspected, but he hadn’t dared to face his suspicion in the light of day.

  “Lord Nerrow is your father,” said his mother without further preamble. “But he’ll never acknowledge you publicly.”

  “And the girl that came with him…”

  “Is your half-sister, though I’m sure she had no idea. Lord Nerrow has two daughters. The other is a few years younger. I’ve never seen her, but her name is Tabitha.”

  “What about the older girl that came with them, Selene?” asked Will.

  His mother shook her head. “I’m not sure. She’s from a noble family most likely, but whether she’s a cousin or just a friend of theirs I couldn’t say.”

  Will had always known he was a bastard. That had been a simple fact of life, but he hadn’t known who his father was, not with any certainty. “How did…?” He wasn’t sure how to phrase his question.