He thought about it for a moment. “You’re saying they were more concerned with the skill of the wizard in your day, but now all we think about is the difficulty of the spell? I’m not sure why that would be the case. We still use the same spells, for the most part.”
“But the wizards today are different,” Arrogan pointed out. “Back then spell difficulty didn’t matter because any wizard could manage just about any spell. That’s why we just called them hard or easy but we didn’t bother giving them fancy ranks and orders.”
“And now there’s only one order of wizardry,” finished Will.
“Wrong. Now there’s no order of wizardry.” Will waited, ruminating over the remark, and eventually his former teacher continued, “Remember how we classified wizards. First-order meant the practitioner had compressed his source once, such that it only produced half the turyn of a normal person. Second-order meant they had halved it again, to one quarter, and third-order meant it had been halved a third time, to one eighth. The people running around pretending to be wizards in this degenerate age haven’t compressed their source even a single time.”
“Ahh,” said Will, nodding.
“You know what we called wizards who hadn’t compressed their source yet back in my day?”
“What?”
“Apprentices.”
“I still think it would have been helpful to classify the spells like they do now,” remarked Will.
“Maybe,” admitted the ring, “but you see what I mean now, don’t you? For us it was more important to pay attention to a wizard’s skill level, or at least his potential.”
“I’m not sure I see why. You already said that any wizard could use any spell. What makes third-order any better than first, other than how long they might live?”
“Don’t discount age. It’s an important factor. Your ability will become more refined with time, and the more time you have, the more polish you will acquire. But again, you’re right, based on your limited understanding at least. In my day a first-, second-, or third-order wizard could do most of the same things. None of them were killing themselves by using magic, and almost all spells were manageable by anyone. The big difference between the three orders is in their relative potential, both in the long and short term. Not only does the third-order wizard have four times the number of years to perfect his craft compared to his first-order colleague, but the speed at which he could be expected to improve his control and the heights to which he might rise were also greater.”
“Control?”
“Turyn control,” emphasized Arrogan. “The order a wizard achieves is a very good indicator of how much control he will be able to attain, how well he will be able to manage the turyn within himself and around himself. Back then, most wizards were first-order, and a much smaller portion, perhaps one in a hundred managed second-order. Very few made it to third-order.”
“How few?”
“I only knew of a few dozen. I’d give you a percentage, but that would be a little skewed, since the third-order wizards also lived a lot longer. Suffice to say, it was big news when someone managed to coax an apprentice up to third-order. Most didn’t try.”
“Because of the death rate,” said Will dryly.
“Exactly.”
He still had trouble reconciling the fact that Arrogan’s last journal had revealed his secret grandfatherly feelings for Will, and yet the old man had still pushed him toward something that had had every chance of killing him. The two things seemed to be at odds. Will stayed silent, lost in thought.
“You know I don’t remember the final years, so I don’t know for sure what I was thinking,” said Arrogan suddenly. “But I have a pretty good idea what I must have been thinking.”
Will lifted his chin. “And?”
“Well, given the odds, it’s obvious I was desperate to get rid of you.” A wicked laugh issued from the ring. “Ha! You thought I’d say something sappy, didn’t you?”
He found himself shaking his head. “No, I honestly didn’t. I know better.”
“Then listen up. If I pushed you all the way to third-order it means I had a damn good reason to think you were capable of it. Do you know how many apprentices I lost?” The ring paused for a second, then answered the question. “None. Do you know why? Because I was that good. Maybe I was mean as hell, I won’t argue that, but I knew how to train an apprentice. I wouldn’t have pushed you to try for third-order if I wasn’t pretty damn sure you’d succeed.”
Will blinked, feeling a sudden warmth rising to his cheeks. “How could you tell?”
“Tell what?”
“If you thought someone could succeed, without dying.”
“Intuition and careful observation. You watch enough people learning to use magic and you start to get a sense for those who have talent. Talent and stubbornness were the things I looked for. Lucky for you, neither common sense nor intelligence seem to be important factors, otherwise I’d probably have just traded you for a cow or something more useful and less aggravating.”
“You almost slipped up there. That was dangerously close to a compliment,” noted Will wryly.
The ring ignored him. “So, you seem to be developing a more mature control of turyn, but you said you hurt yourself.”
He described the pain he’d started having after using the point-defense spell at home.
“Sounds like you sprained your will,” observed Arrogan.
“Is that the same thing that happened to me when I first started expressing turyn?”
“I don’t remember the event in question, so I don’t know. It’s helpful to think of your will as a muscle, even though it isn’t. Regular exercise will make it stronger, but if you overdo it you can injure yourself. An injury to your will can range from something akin to a muscle sprain to something every bit as serious as tearing a muscle free of the bone. Any serious user of magic will eventually hurt themselves, but if you don’t learn to avoid overdoing it you could potentially destroy your ability to use turyn—completely.”
“So what should I do?”
“Avoid using any magic for a few days. Try something small after that. You’ll have recovered from a minor injury in that time, but if it still gives you a headache, or any pain at all for that matter, then you should give yourself a full two weeks of rest, because that would indicate that you hurt yourself pretty badly.”
“That really does sound similar to a muscle injury,” agreed Will.
“It’s a useful analogy.”
Will glanced up as a bell rang from the front hall. Someone was at the door. It was already after dark and he hadn’t agreed to meet anyone, so the interruption annoyed him. He considered letting Blake answer it, but a sudden impulse overtook him. Standing up, he stepped out of the study and shouted toward the kitchen, “I’ll see who it is.” After hearing Blake’s acknowledgement, he strode purposefully to the front hall.
Chapter 3
A small figure stood before his front door, covered in a heavy wool cloak that was steadily dripping water. It had been raining heavily since shortly after Will had arrived home, but his visitor had apparently been caught by the elements.
Wool was an excellent material for damp weather. It could absorb many times its own weight in water before actually becoming wet, but once it had reached its limit it became a serious liability. Not only would it be wet, but it also weighed many times its normal dry weight. Will couldn’t see his visitor’s face but he knew better than to allow an unannounced stranger inside. Despite his newfound influence as Selene’s husband he had no doubt that he had far more enemies than friends.
He spoke through the small window inset in the center of the heavy oaken door. “Whatever it is we’re not interested. Leave a card tomorrow.”
As he began closing the window, the stranger replied, “Please. I need to see Selene. She wouldn’t turn me away.” The voice was distinctly feminine with a cultured accent. It reminded him of Stephanie Beresford.
Just a year before, he
would never have considered turning a woman away from his door when it was raining, but he was significantly less trusting these days. He had changed. Plus Tailtiu had already retired for the evening, meaning she had left. In spite of her part in keeping up the illusion that Selene was living there, Will refused to let her sleep anywhere near him. Selene’s doppelganger was probably already back in Faerie.
“Sorry. No visitors without an appointment.” He felt a faint pang of guilt as he shut the tiny wooden door that closed the window.
Before he had gone two paces a persistent banging began as the woman outside began pounding on the door. “Please! I left my card earlier. I have to see her!”
Will took a deep breath to calm himself, then returned to the door. This time he drew the bolt and opened the door so he could see the woman better. “I already told you we—” He fell back as the heavy wood slammed into him. It caught him slightly off balance and he fell to the right, catching himself on the wall as the woman shouldered her way through the opening.
“Selene!” she yelled, her voice piercing in both its clarity and volume. “Selene, it’s me! I need your help. Where are you?”
Tailtiu’s daily lessons had left their mark on him, and in spite of his surprise Will reacted a bit more decisively than he probably would have otherwise. As he pushed himself back away from the wall, his right foot swept out to hook the stranger’s ankle before she could get out of reach. A second later his hand found her shoulder and he spun her around and sent her into a tumbling fall. Her head made a sharp ‘clack’ as her jaw struck the wood paneling, slamming her mouth shut. Will’s teeth hurt in sympathy as the sound registered. Ouch!
“Sorry for that,” Will apologized reflexively. “But you can’t just barge in here. Who are you?” His hand reached for the woman’s hood. In a sudden panic she jerked, and her hand came up. Once again Will’s training took over before he recognized the fact that the woman was merely trying to keep her hood down. He caught her arm and twisted it into a wristlock before he had a chance to think. He released it just as quickly, feeling a sense of shame. It seems like I’ve done nothing but abuse women today.
“Ow! Let me go, you brute!” she shrieked as her hood fell away. Wet hair fell forward to hide her features, but not before Will recognized the face.
“Laina?” he asked in shock, releasing his half-sister and moving away to put more distance between them.
She seemed to flinch as he said her name. “Don’t look at me,” she ordered. Beneath the shadow of her hair Will could see that her eyes were red and swollen. Had she been crying? Laina looked away before he could make up his mind.
“Why were you out in the rain? Alone? Where’s your escort?” he asked feeling a sudden rush of protective concern for her. Laina had never liked him, and truth be told he didn’t much care for her either. Everything he knew of her had shown him that she was a typical young noblewoman, spoiled and entitled. But she was still his sister, even if she didn’t know it.
“None of your business,” she snapped. “Where’s Selene? You can’t keep her away from me forever.”
There was blood at the corner of her mouth, making Will feel even worse. Probably from when she hit the wall. “Are you all right? You’re bleeding.” He pointed at his own lip to point out where the blood was, then he reached into a pocket and dug out a handkerchief to offer her.
Laina batted his offering away. “I’m fine. What have you done with Selene? Are you hiding her? If you’ve done something to her, I’ll see that you pay for it in blood. Do you hear me?” Her red, swollen eyes held a certain intensity that utterly overshadowed her bedraggled and pitiful appearance. Will believed her.
Whatever his sister’s other faults might be, she was at the least a loyal friend.
“She isn’t here,” he admitted.
“Liar. People have seen her. Even the king says she’s here, with you, though I’ll never understand why.”
“I can’t explain the details,” said Will directly. “You wouldn’t believe me anyway. Maybe you’ll believe her when she gets back. I’m sure she’ll explain everything then.”
“You’re blackmailing her, aren’t you?” accused Laina. “This is some sort of extortion. It’s the only way to explain this sham marriage.”
Will threw his hands up in resignation. “There’s no reasoning with you.”
“It might be a bit more believable if you weren’t keeping her locked away somewhere like a prisoner. No one has been able to see her in person.”
“That’s not true,” Will argued. “Why, just last week…”
“No one that knows her—personally,” corrected Laina. “What are you doing to her? Have you locked her away? There’s no reason why she would refuse to see me.”
Will sighed. “This isn’t getting us anywhere.” He moved to the door, intending to show her the way out, then paused. It was still raining heavily. “I’ll have my man get a carriage for you.”
“I need to see her,” said Laina once more, a faint tone of desperation in her voice.
“She isn’t here, but I’ll make sure she talks to you first when she returns,” he answered.
“When will that be?”
Months? Years? He didn’t know. “It could be a while.”
Laina’s prideful visage cracked. “Please. I need her help.”
The look on her face made Will’s chest tighten. Whatever Laina’s problem was, she obviously thought it was a serious concern. “Maybe I could help?” he offered. “If you’ll tell me what you—”
His half-sister’s features hardened. “I’d sooner beg on the streets.” She turned to the door on her own, opening it and stepping out. Then she glanced back at him. “You’ll get yours when I figure out what you’ve done to her. Mark my words.”
“It’s still raining,” he cautioned. “Let me get you a coach—” The door slammed shut.
Blake stepped out from the front room. “Perhaps you should have woken her to come down and see her.”
Will glared at the man. He was all but certain that Blake knew about Tailtiu’s ruse. “Laina knows her too well. You should know that as well as…”
Blake coughed, interrupting him. “I’m not sure what you’re getting at, sir. Perhaps I should ask His Majesty for some clarification.” There was a warning in the man’s eyes.
Will closed his mouth abruptly. Translation: don’t say anything that you don’t want the king to hear about. Blake was clearly loyal to his mistress, but as Will had found out in the past, no one dared attempt lying to the king, not if they valued their lives.
He stared at his manservant for a long minute, listening to the rain pouring down outside. Then he turned to open the door and go out.
Blake called out to him with concern in his voice, “It’s cold and wet out there, sir. Let me get you a rain cover.”
“No time,” said Will. “I’ll be back later.”
“It’s dark. It isn’t safe to be out in this alone.”
“Exactly.”
It should have been a half-moon that night, but the rainclouds ruined any chance of decent illumination. Will earned himself a painful headache as he adjusted his vision to make the best use of the scanty light. Apparently wild magic was just as bad for him as formal spells when it came to his injury. He followed Laina while keeping a considerable distance between them, trusting distance and the dim light to keep him unobserved.
The rain soaked through his doublet and undershirt as he followed Laina across Wurthaven’s dark lawns and down the lane that led to the main entrance. He regretted ignoring Blake’s advice. An oilcloth cover would have kept the worst of the water off, but what he missed most was his brigandine under-armor. He’d taken it off as soon as he’d gone to his study. Being outdoors without at least that much protection made him feel vulnerable.
The past year had made him a very paranoid young man.
And I’m probably wasting my time, he thought to himself. Chances are she’ll get home without any trouble at a
ll and I’ll have gotten myself soaked and chilled for naught.
As Laina left Wurthaven behind and stepped onto the main road, Will noticed movement in the darkness ahead. Someone else was following her. His heart sped up, and he quickened his steps.
His mind considered the situation as he tried to close the distance. The stranger was skillful, following Laina at a distance of less than thirty yards without making enough noise to alert her. The newcomer clearly didn’t have his ability to see in the dark, though, otherwise the fellow would have kept a greater distance, like Will. Or is he just following her? He had no way of knowing the stranger’s intentions. “But I’ll find out,” he whispered under his breath.
He would have loved to use magic to hide himself, or to cover the sounds of his movement, but he didn’t dare risk incapacitating himself. He relied on the noise of the rain to cover his approach, and he was no slouch at moving quietly when he needed to. Will sped up and began to close ground.
The stranger was getting closer to Laina as well, and as the man passed under a streetlamp at the next intersection Will saw a flash of metal. Will charged.
The shadowy figure was less than ten feet from Laina’s unsuspecting back when Will reached him. The man heard him splash through a puddle at the last moment, and Will saw a flash of bright eyes and thin brows above a cloth mask as the man turned and ducked his first punch.
The fellow failed to avoid the second, simultaneous swing, which connected with the his midsection. The man folded slightly, the air rushing from his lungs, while Will felt a sharp pain shoot up his arm. The assassin had been wearing some sort of armor.
Will’s opponent had fallen to the ground, but the man rolled out of the way before Will could bring his foot down. Glancing up, Will felt a sense of relief as he saw that Laina had already noticed the fight and was wisely running away. He focused on her assailant. It was time to get some answers.
The man had already gotten back to his feet, and now that he had time to observe the fellow he could see that the man was rather short with a slim build. This will be quick. He moved in and was surprised when his foe spun, turning his back on him, something only a fool would do. When the man leapt from the ground and continued the spin, Will was almost caught off-guard by the heavy boot that came rushing at his head.
Scholar of Magic Page 3