Fender rushed to his side and put a hand on his arm. “Easy, Warmaster. Choose your battles. You cannot fight what you cannot see. The Ramiken meant no harm.”
J’Mart snorted. “Shows what you know. I would’ve liked to bounce his head off the floor a few times.” Gaen started to relax, but was peering intently around the room as if by concentrating hard enough he would be able to see his tormentor. The little man remained hidden, and the Warmaster slowly relaxed.
The atmosphere was decidedly awkward until Gaen spoke. “I must apologize. I did not realize that a magical creature that I cannot see had a gender, and also feelings. I have offended, and once again, I apologize.” Joel and Fender looked quickly at J’Mart.
The Ramiken did nothing at first, then also seemed to relax. “Apology accepted,” he muttered, which Joel proceeded to relay to Gaen. Tension eased, and Joel, Fender and Gaen all sat down again.
Fender spoke first. “All right, to business. We have agreed, I think, that the SongMaster is telling the truth. Gaen, I know you would like a demonstration of his magic, but that can come later. First I would like to settle upon a plan of action, however tentative it may be. I feel that we do not have unlimited time to find and rescue the Duran.”
The Warmaster nodded. “I agree. This is not something we should sit on and debate endlessly in council. My vote is that we tell King Peter and one or two others, and no more.” He continued where Fender had left off. “Secondly, we need to organize a small party to find the book. In my opinion, the smaller the better – a guerilla force, if you will. I can pick out some of my best soldiers that are not currently deployed on the border. I think ten should do it. Fender, is there someone you think should go along?”
Fender thought for a moment and then shook his head. “No, I think Joel and myself will be sufficient. Magic does attract attention, after all.”
“Hold on a sec,” interjected Joel. “First of all, I’m honored that you call me SongMaster, but I’m not sure I deserve it. And second, does either one of you know where the Duran is?” He was greeted with blank stares. “So how do we know where the hell we’re going?”
Over in the corner, J’Mart chuckled quietly. “Kinda makes it difficult if you don’t even know which direction to go, eh?” Then he looked intently at Joel. “SongMaster,” he said slowly, as if he were tasting the word. “I like it.”
“Thanks. I’m glad you approve.”
Fender was stroking his beard slowly, gazing into space. “There’s a spell,” he said quietly, almost to himself, “which would be useful in this situation, but I can’t for the life of me remember where it was that I found it. Was it Kawayne? Perhaps it was Phileas Creatorius.” He grew quiet again, lost in thought.
“Does it find lost books?” asked Gaen. “’Phileas’ Lost Book Finding Spell?’” It was difficult for Joel to tell if the big man was joking or not.
Fender, however, smiled, apparently used to such jibes from his friend. “No, it’s a spell to help locate ‘that which is lost.’ It’s supposed to be used to find magical objects in particular, but I can’t remember where I found it. Never had the occasion to try it, so I misplaced it. I have to locate that spell. I think it might serve our purpose and tell us exactly where we’re going, or at least the direction in which we should travel.”
“Will it tell us if the Duran’s not on this world?” asked Joel. “Because I don’t believe Massar ever specifically stated that it was here on Alera.”
“That I do not know. I shall have to try it and see what results.” The wizard thought for a moment. “Would you care to join me? I am curious as to what effect your music might have on working such a spell.”
Joel smiled painfully. “I’d love to watch, but with my current level of magical expertise, the last thing I think you need is my help.” J’Mart snickered again, not unkindly. “I’d probably help get it more lost, if anything.”
Gaen stood. “Then I think we are decided. You two magic-workers will attempt to find where the book is. I will choose ten of my best men. When would you like to brief the King?”
Fender shook his head. “As soon as we have located the Duran. I would like to approach him with as much information as possible. If I need to leave this world and take his Warmaster with me, then I want to be able to warn him of that fact. Joel and I will come and find you when we have succeeded.” Joel noticed Fender’s use of ‘when’ instead of ‘if,’ but said nothing.
The Ramiken noticed as well. “Awfully optimistic, aren’t you? The thing’s been lost for thousands of years. What makes you think you’ll be able to say two mumbo-jumbos and a hallelujah and be able to find it?”
“Because, my magical friend, up until now, nobody has known to look for it. The creation – indeed, the existence – of the Duran has been shrouded in myth and mystery up until now. I doubt there are more than a handful of creatures in the multiverse who even know that it exists. It is very easy to hide something that everybody thinks is a myth.” He beckoned to Joel. “Let’s go find that spell, Joel. Gaen – we’ll catch up with you.” The wizard turned, and Joel followed him out of the Warmaster’s quarters, J’Mart riding on his shoulder.
EIGHT
Joel was beginning to realize what an awesome task finding one spell in Fender’s collection of magical texts could be. The wizard had thousands of scrolls, books and scraps of parchment scattered around his rooms. He had managed, after some thought, to separate the bunch into three sections. The first section was those texts which were totally unlikely to contain the spell. The second section was texts that might have the spell, and the third and smallest section was those that probably contained the spell.
It was this third pile through which Joel was sorting. Fender had assumed that since he was unfamiliar with magical texts, it would be best if he scanned those manuscripts most likely to have what he was looking for. After quickly reviewing with Joel what the spell would look like, the wizard turned him loose on the stacks while he searched the other sections. For several hours there was little sound anywhere in the room except for the rustling of papers or an occasional “Aha!” or a “Dammit!” or an incomprehensible mumble.
Joel sighed, set aside yet another cure for warts and rubbed his eyes. Wizards must get a lot of warts, because there sure are a lot of cures for them. J’Mart was nowhere to be seen. He had begun to sort through the stack with Joel, but had soon lost interest. After nosing around the room, reading over Joel’s shoulder, lighting and snuffing out the candles, and generally being a nuisance, he had disappeared completely.
Joel had no idea how long he had been searching, but his eyes were tired, and his stomach was starting to rumble. He was just beginning to think about asking Fender if he wanted a break when the wizard stood up and stretched. “My old eyes need a rest,” he said, smiling at Joel. “That’s difficult work, no matter what the Warmaster says. How about a bite to eat before we continue?”
“Sounds like an excellent idea. How long have we been at this?”
“Well, judging by the sun’s position, I’d say we’ve been looking for several hours at least. It’s dinner time, I think. Let’s go eat.” With that, the two men headed downstairs to the dining hall where Fender had taken Joel for breakfast earlier that day.
As they dined on some sort of roast with vegetables, Joel quizzed Fender about the spells that he had been reading. “Does every wizard have to learn these spells, or does magic ever come naturally, without words?” he asked.
Fender seemed to consider the question as he swallowed some ale. “Wizards have the power to take the magic that is present everywhere and manipulate it and concentrate it where and how they need it. This doesn’t seem to be a skill that one can learn; rather, it seems to be an innate talent that a person either has or doesn’t have. But talent itself is not enough. In order to manipulate the magic correctly, one must use spells, which are worded in certain ways to serve each spell’s purpose. So the two things go hand in hand.
“Neither is e
nough without the other. Take Gaen, for instance. I could teach him my fire-lighting spell, word for word, nuances and all, but he would be helpless without a good tinderbox and some flint. The magic just isn’t in his blood, so the spell does him no good.”
“What about my magic? I don’t use any words or spells, and I can light a branch on fire. Well, almost on fire. It smoked a little.”
“And that, my friend, is one of the things that makes your magic special, aside from the fact that nobody else can do your particular brand of casting. I named you SongMaster for a reason. There have been a few wizards throughout the centuries that are able to control magic without using worded spells, but they are so rare that I can think of two of them that have existed in the past five thousand years. Nobody knows, including them, how they do what they do. The rest of us, myself included, simply learn our spells and carry on.”
“Who writes the spells? Can anyone just write down some fancy rhymes and some wizard somewhere will be able to conjure up a gold coin?”
Fender chuckled. “Quite the opposite, in fact. Spell-writing is a highly specialized branch of magic. I am not entirely sure how spell-writers do what they do, but neither are most wizards. Spell books are lost and found, written and destroyed all the time, and we pick up what we can and teach others what we know. I often trade spells with the other magicians and wizards that come to the palace for the Grand Council. In fact, that’s where I learned my fire spell, which is one of the best spells I ever learned.”
Joel considered this as he ate in silence for a time. “When we get back to your rooms, I know we need to search for the finding spell, but would you teach me a spell? I would like to see if I can learn the other magic, too.”
“Of course. I’m about finished here, so when you’re done, we’ll head back and try some simple spells.” Fender looked around. “Where is your friend, the Ramiken? I haven’t seen him all afternoon.”
“I don’t know,” answered Joel. “He started to help sort through the stacks of scrolls, but then he got bored and disappeared. I’m sure he’ll turn up when he finishes doing whatever it is he’s doing.” Joel finished his drink, a strange but tasty fruit juice, and got up, eager to learn a spell. Although J’Mart’s absence was disturbing, he wasn’t particularly bothered by it. If I need him, I’ll just call him. We’ll see if it really works that way.
When they got back to the wizard’s rooms, Fender picked a well-worn manuscript out of one of the piles and spread it out for Joel to see. The top of the page read “Levitation Technique.”
“Wait a minute, wait a minute. Isn’t there something a little easier than levitating? Seems a little intense to start with.”
“Actually, Joel, you’d be surprised. Levitation is usually one of the first spells a beginning wizard learns. It’s very simple. We’ll start with this feather.” Fender leaned over and grabbed a large white feather from a bunch on the bookcase. “Read the words on the page and memorize them. Then say them silently to yourself while you visualize the feather floating. Give it a try.”
Joel read the words on the page, memorizing the almost meaningless rhyme effortlessly. Keeping the words in his mind, he leaned back, closed his eyes, and pictured the feather floating in midair as he soundlessly recited the rhyme.
After holding the image in his mind for a time and reciting the words twice, he opened his eyes, not sure what to expect. The feather was still in the same place. He looked at Fender.
The wizard shrugged. “This is as new to me as it is to you, Joel. I have never even encountered a wizard like you, much less tried to teach one a spell. Try again.” Joel repeated the exercise, with the same results. Fender stroked his beard thoughtfully. “Are you picturing the feather already floating?”
“Oh, yeah,” said Joel. “J’Mart drilled that into me when I was practicing my magic on the walk to Beláin. ‘If you picture it as happening, it will never actually happen.’ It was only after I got that that I started having results.”
“All right, then. Let’s try it again, and try stressing the syllables here, here and here.”
A few tries later, Joel was ready to admit defeat. Though Fender had made several suggestions, which he had followed diligently, he had no success in making the feather leave the table.
Finally he stood up and grabbed his guitar. “Do you mind if I try it this way?” he asked the wizard.
The old man smiled. “Not at all. I would like to see and hear your music again, to tell the truth.”
Joel closed his eyes again and tried to decide what music symbolized ‘levitation’ to him. He finally settled on Bach’s “Air on a G String” and started to play as he watched the feather, picturing it floating above the table.
He was successful almost immediately. A flare of sky blue light surrounded his arms and the guitar, and a tendril of blue streamed out towards the feather and engulfed it, which began to lift from the table. It rose about a foot off of the table and halted, floating almost motionless. The blue light pulsed with the beat of the music Joel was playing.
He almost laughed. It was ridiculously easy – much easier than trying to light a fire. As he smiled, his music faltered, and the feather started to fall. He gathered his concentration again and the feather resumed its position.
He played for a few minutes and then paused. The music died away, and so did the blue lights. The feather dropped to the table, and he set his guitar down as well and looked at Fender, who had been listening quietly. “That was almost too easy,” he said.
“I told you, levitation is one of the simplest spells to learn, and it seems it is the same way with your own style of magic. Practice your control with that exercise, and then we can move on to more difficult ones. It seems you are unable to use spells, but it doesn’t seem to stop you from practicing magic in your own way.”
Suddenly there was a ‘pop’ and J’Mart appeared on the table, standing on the feather. Joel immediately noticed that he looked a little unkempt, as if he had been running or in a fight. He seemed calm enough, however, and grinned mischievously at Joel. “Howdy! Miss me?”
“J’Mart! Where have you been?” Although he hadn’t thought about it, Joel realized he had missed the little man while he had been gone, though it had only been a few hours.
The Ramiken made a great show out of brushing himself off. “Well, I had a thought while you were going through all of those boring books, and I went to investigate. Was successful, too.”
“So what did you investigate? Where did you run off to?”
“Patience, patience, patience,” said J’Mart, holding up a hand. “One question at a time. I was investigating the fact that somebody owed me a favor. Can’t say who. So I went to go visit this somebody. And sure enough, he had what I thought he might have.”
“And that is…?”
“This.” The Ramiken held out his hand almost smugly, revealing a scroll much like those in Fender’s collection, save for the fact that it was much smaller, as if it belonged to a doll.
Joel looked at it without moving. “I say again: And that is…?”
J’Mart closed his eyes and shook his head. “Honestly, sometimes I can’t believe you humans have gone as far as you have, evolutionarily speaking. This here is a spell. More specifically, one that finds lost things. Lost important things. Lost important magical things.” Seeing the expression on Joel’s face, he nodded. “Yup. Now you’re getting it. Did you want this, magic man?” he asked Fender.
Fender leaned forward intently. “I would indeed, if it is a locator spell. You have just saved us immeasurable trouble, J’Mart.” He took the scroll and unrolled it, peering at the contents. “Yes, this will do nicely. Joel, your friend has made at least this part of our search much easier.”
“Great,” said Joel. “So who owed you a favor?” he asked the little man. A thought crossed his mind. “You didn’t steal this, did you?”
J’Mart drew himself up to his full twelve-inch height and puffed out his chest. “What?! Ste
al it? Who do you take me for? A common thief? Now I am definitely insulted.” He folded his arms over his chest and turned his back on Joel, but he threw a sidelong glance over his shoulder as he turned.
This helped to confirm Joel’s suspicions. “Oh, come on, Mr. Egg Stealer. You did, didn’t you? That’s why your hair’s all messed up, and you won’t tell us where you went or who you visited.”
J’Mart slumped. “Oh, all right. But it won’t be missed, trust me. It’s more like I just borrowed it, since I can just put it back once Mr. Wizard there is done with it. I just knew you guys needed it.”
Joel was about to continue needling J’Mart, but Fender put up his hand. “It’s all right, Joel. He can indeed return it when I finish, which should be very soon. And the less you and I know, the better, I think. Let’s get this table cleared off, and I will begin.” He immediately began following his own direction, and Joel was soon helping clear off the overused table. It wasn’t long before the only thing left on the table was a large basin of water.
The wizard made a motion with his hand, and the flames on the candles got measurably smaller, darkening the room. Kind of a magical dimmer switch, thought Joel. As he and J’Mart stood quietly, Fender put his hands to his temples, peered into the basin of water, and began mouthing quiet syllables.
As far as Joel could tell, nothing happened. Time stretched on, and still the wizard stared into the water. The water rippled once, but Joel noticed nothing else. He did notice, however, that when he watched Fender’s eyes, they were moving as if tracking a moving object, though his gaze never strayed from the bowl of water.
After what seemed like hours, Fender straightened up, shook his head, and waved his hand, brightening the room again. Then he turned to Joel. “The spell was a success,” he said in a somewhat strained voice, sounding very tired. “I have determined the location of the Duran.”
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