“You need to polish your setting before you mount your stone,” said Damon.
Slowly, Eynon realized the older man had spoken.
“How do I do that?”
“With jeweler’s rouge and a fine cloth. It will take you hours to make your setting gleam.”
“No it won’t,” said Eynon with a grin.
He generated another small bubble of solidified sound, poured the red jewelers’ rouge powder inside, and added the setting. Then he repeated the vibration process that had liberated the setting from its mold. A few seconds later, every speck of remaining plaster dust had been removed and the surface of the setting was as bright as the sun at midday. He even returned the excess jeweler’s rouge to its box.
Damon put his arm around Eynon.
“You have the makings of a fine wizard, lad,” he said. “You’re not constrained by the traditional ways of doing things.”
“You might even say he’s broken the mold,” said Nûd with a grin.
Damon groaned and Eynon smiled, enjoying the fact that he understood Nûd’s joke this time.
Eynon dispelled the sphere and retrieved his polished setting, admiring how it caught the light.
“Do I need to glue my magestone in place?” he asked.
“Try it and see,” said Damon.
Taking the setting in his left hand and the red stone in his right, Eynon brought the two close together. When they almost touched, the magestone jumped across the intervening distance and snapped into place, its flat top showing sparkling, faceted depths. Eynon and Damon admired Eynon’s artifact while Nûd stepped to the workbench and opened a drawer.
“You may find this useful,” said Nûd, holding a length of chain made from thick gold links. “It used to belong to the Master.”
Damon seemed surprised, but didn’t let it show on his face for long. He helped Eynon connect the chain to a pair of loops on the top of Eynon’s setting.
“Try it on, lad,” he said. “Let’s see how it suits you.”
Eynon put the chain around his neck. The artifact rested on his collarbone, over his quilted jacket. He hoped the Blue Wizard’s artifact wasn’t visible as a bulge beneath the fabric.
“It will take me a while to get used to his red stone,” said Nûd. “I’m only used to seeing blue ones—and green.”
“You’ve seen a wizard from Tamloch up close?” asked Eynon.
“Very close,” Nûd replied. “It’s a long story for another time. You look good with a red magestone. It suits you.”
“Does it make me an odd duck among wizards in Dâron?”
“It does,” said Damon. “But there’s nothing wrong with that. I had a student once whose stone was more aquamarine than blue, but we lost her.”
“Lost her?”
“In the last war,” said Nûd. “There’s a high attrition rate for wizards.”
“Oh,” said Eynon. He hadn’t thought much about the down side of being a wizard. “Why is that?”
“Kings and generals use wizards before engaging their armies,” said Damon. “Wizards take territory—soldiers hold it, is the old saying. Since offensive spells are usually stronger than defensive ones, battles tend to go through a lot of wizards.”
“Is that why Dâron needs a big school like this one to train wizards?” asked Eynon.
“There are never enough wizards in time of war,” said Nûd.
“And always too many in peacetime,” added Damon.
“That sounds a lot like bringing in crops from year to year,” said Eynon.
“It’s much the same, but with longer cycles,” said the older man. “We have to get you enough training so you will be one of the survivors. I have high hopes for you, lad.”
Nûd glanced sideways at Damon and muttered under his breath.
“What was that?” asked Damon.
“Nothing,” said Nûd. “Do you want to continue Eynon’s training now or have him start dinner?”
“That’s an excellent question,” Damon replied. “What do you think, Eynon? Do we opt for dinner or more instruction?”
“Why not both? I can get a pot of meat and vegetables started in a few minutes, then come right back to learn more about wizardry.”
“Get about it, then, lad,” said Damon.
Eynon left with a light step, his red magestone pulsing in its new setting on his chest. His hearing must have improved, because he heard Damon’s next words to Nûd and grinned.
“We’ll let him stew on things a bit, then start him on offensive magic,” said Damon.
Eynon didn’t hear Nûd’s reply, just his groan.
Merry
“Why did you decide on electrum, rather than gold or silver?” asked Fercha.
The older wizard held Merry’s artifact in her hand, turning it from side to side to examine its details. It was diamond-shaped with rounded corners, convex like a war shield, and changed its appearance as the light caught it. The artifact’s surface was etched with intricately flowing geometric designs and a fine chain attached to points just above its outer vertices.
“I couldn’t decide,” said Merry. “I like both gold and silver. Doethan has his magestone in a gold headband, and you favor silver for your pendant, so it may be a way to acknowledge you both.”
Merry took her artifact back from Fercha and put it around her neck. The circular blue magestone in the center of the artifact pulsed once it was in place.
“Alloys are often stronger than pure metals,” said Fercha. “Bronze is harder than copper or tin, and steel holds a sharper edge than iron. Perhaps electrum—mixing gold and silver—will serve you well.”
“I hope it will,” said Merry. “Don’t the gold and silver we use have other metals, like copper and platinum in them?”
“They do,” said Fercha. “When we’re not pressed for time I’ll show you how to determine how much of each metal is present using a tub of water. How did you know about the other metals?”
“There’s a bench on the street of the jewelers in Tyford where I like to read,” said Merry. “It’s easy to overlook a girl with a book.”
Fercha smiled at the younger woman.
“I think I’m going to enjoy having you as an apprentice. Come with me to the top of the tower. We both need to learn how to use our new artifacts.”
“Yours is beautiful, by the way,” said Merry when they paused at the door to the roof. “It’s a lot like the one Eynon showed me, but different.”
“No two artifacts are alike,” said Fercha, “just as no two magestones are alike. The artifact is the expression of the bond between the magestone and the mage.”
“What happens to magestones when their wizards die?” asked Merry. “Is there a storeroom or museum where they’re kept?”
“Magestones die when their wizards die,” said Fercha. “The light goes out of them and the settings of their artifacts melt back to puddles of metal. Some of the gold and silver in my stock belonged to wizards who are gone.”
“That’s so sad,” said Merry. “Artifacts are works of art. They should be preserved.”
“There are artists in Brendinas who will want to paint a picture of your artifact,” said Fercha. “The pictures are kept in books so new wizards can see what their predecessors have created.”
The older woman ran her fingers through her short hair, as if her mind was elsewhere.
“What are you thinking?” asked Merry.
“I’m thinking I’ll need a picture of my new artifact as well. I was remembering when my first artifact was painted. My father arranged for the finest artist at the court to do it. He was a handsome fellow—a visitor to the court from Tamloch. We found out later he was a spy.”
“There were artists from Tamloch in Brendinas?”
Fercha seemed lost in thought again, her hand on the door latch, but not opening it.
“Are we going up to the roof?” asked Merry after a few seconds.
“What?” asked Fercha. “Oh, yes, of course.”
They ascended.
Chapter 25
“True strength is in control, not power.”
— Ealdamon’s Epigrams
The booming flash from Eynon’s first attempt at casting an offensive spell from the castle’s battlements was like standing in the middle of a thunderstorm, except for the lack of rain and the bright afternoon sun. His lightning bolt had been so powerful, it had carved half a circle out of a broad expanse of bare rock close to the castle.
“Perhaps not quite so much power next time,” suggested Damon.
The older man had been standing next to Eynon, but was now a few steps away. The remaining hair on his head was standing out straight from his scalp due to the residual magical charge radiating from Eynon. Damon’s head looked like one of the brushes Eynon used to clean bottles in his kitchen back in Haywall.
“Sorry,” said Eynon.
He wondered what his own hair looked like and reached up to check. He could feel the pulse of Chee’s rapid breathing inside his jacket. The raconette had sensibly retreated from his usual perch on Eynon’s shoulder after the blast.
“What’s going on up there?” called Nûd from the courtyard behind and below them.
“It’s none of your concern,” said Damon.
“You’re frightening the chickens,” said Nûd. “They’re so upset they won’t lay for a week.”
“We have chickens?” asked Eynon.
He put his head to his forehead. Of course, we have chickens. Nûd can’t pick up a dozen eggs at the weekly market. There don’t seem to be any other people around for hundreds of miles.
Nûd took pity on Eynon and didn’t reply.
“I’ll calm them down after my lesson,” Eynon offered.
“If you try,” Nûd shouted up, “don’t bring Chee.”
“Right,” Eynon replied.
Raconettes were notorious egg-stealers. Chee shifted inside Eynon’s jacket and stuck his head out of its front collar.
“Back to your lesson,” said Damon.
Chee retreated and curled up on top of Eynon’s ribs.
“Focus this time,” said the older man. “Even lightning can be a subtle weapon.”
“How?” asked Eynon. “Subtle lightning doesn’t make much sense to me.”
“The Master can spark a horsefly off the king’s neck without giving him a shock,” said Damon. “That’s control.”
“Why use lightning when a tiny sphere of solidified sound would do the job more effectively, with less risk?”
“I don’t think you’re properly understanding the teacher-student relationship,” said Damon with a smile. “Try it again, but with more control and less power.”
“Because you say so?”
“Exactly. Find the spark inside your magestone and release it a little at a time.”
Eynon couldn’t hold back a grin as he moved to the edge of the battlements and set his feet. Maybe power is like salt? A little is good, but a lot ruins the dish.
He tried summoning lightning again and succeeded, releasing a short blast from his index finger that carved a bit more arc in the circle he’d created in the bare rock earlier.
“Good,” said Damon. “Again.”
Carefully aiming his blasts, Eynon carved the remainder of the figure in the bare expanse of rock near the cliffs. The bolts left a rounded two-foot wide channel in the stone that curved into a circle, fifty feet in diameter. By the time Eynon finished the last few degrees of arc, his control had improved substantially. He sent a tiny bolt of lightning at a pebble balancing on the edge of the circle, causing it to fall into the shallow channel below.
“Well done, lad,” said Damon. “We’ll have you sparking horseflies off Nûd’s neck in no time.”
“I think I’d still prefer using tiny spheres of sound,” Eynon replied.
It suddenly became cooler when a shadow passed between them and the sun. Eynon looked up to see if his work with lightning had attracted a storm, but it wasn’t a cloud above him, it was Rocky. Eynon waved to the wyvern. Rocky tipped a wing and expertly descended to land a dozen feet farther down the crenellated wall. The scaly black beast looked at Eynon expectantly.
“We still need to work on fireballs before dinner,” said Damon. “Tell your pet to run along and come back later.”
“I don’t know if he’s my pet or I’m his,” said Eynon, “and I’m not sure I can tell him anything.”
“Then distract him,” said Damon. “We have more spells to cover.”
“Yes, sir,” said Eynon. “I just thought of something that should keep Rocky busy for a while.”
Damon crossed his arms and watched as Eynon created a red ball of solidified sound. He brought it close enough to Rocky that the wyvern could lick it and the beast was obviously pleased by its taste. With a wave of one of his hands, Eynon directed the sphere down to the circle he’d carved in the bare rock by the cliffs. Rocky leapt from the battlements and dove for the ball, which Eynon dropped into the circular channel.
The wyvern landed in the center of the circle and batted the ball with a wing-tip. It rolled halfway around the circle’s circumference until it was behind Rocky. He turned to follow it and tapped the ball with a wing-tip again. It skittered around the entire circle this time.
Rocky looked up at Eynon and bobbed the dragon-like head on his long neck several times. Eynon bowed back, bobbing his head like the wyvern had.
“I’m glad you like it,” Eynon shouted.
The wyvern made a pleased chuffing sound and returned to playing with its giant new toy.
Damon shook his head and turned away, but Eynon saw his smile.
“Fireballs?” asked Eynon.
“Yes, fireballs,” said Damon. “I was going to have you practice on that stretch of bare rock you’d blasted with lightning, but now that’s inadvisable.”
“Because Rocky might flame back?”
“Because I don’t want you to hurt your pet,” said Damon, “even by accident.”
The older man shouted down to Nûd, who was still in the courtyard below, pretending to sweep the cobblestones while listening to the magic lessons.
“Fetch me my disk and one of the training disks, and be quick about it.”
“Yes, Your Superiorness,” said the big man. “I hear and obey.”
“More alacrity and less sarcasm, please,” said Damon.
“Since you said please,” said Nûd as he went back into the castle to fetch the requested items.
Eynon enjoyed the way the Nûd and Damon fought. It reminded him of the way his uncles teased him when he paid them visits. They joked about how he was a better cook than a farmer, but ate the small cakes he brought them with obvious relish, despite their mock-disparaging comments.
Nûd soon returned with a pair of thin, flat, translucent disks a yard wide. He tossed both up to Damon, who handed one to Eynon. The disk glowed softly with some sort of inner light. It looked just like the floating platform Damon had used to transport the pronghorn down to the kitchen earlier.
“What’s this?” asked Eynon. He was pretty sure he knew the answer.
“It’s a flying disk,” shouted Nûd from the courtyard. “Damon doesn’t want to risk having you set the forest on fire, so he’s taking you to the lake.”
“That seems sensible,” said Eynon.
&nbs
p; Damon made a harrumph sound that Eynon interpreted as grudging agreement. He was already hovering ten feet above the battlements, looking down on Eynon.
“It is a sensible precaution, lad,” he said. “Step on your disk and let’s be off.”
“How do I make it fly?” asked Eynon.
He put his disk in the center of the walkway along the top of the wall, then stood on it and thought about flying. Nothing happened.
“That’s not the way to do it,” said Damon. “Use your magestone and setting. You can’t lift your disk by just thinking about it.”
“But…” said Eynon.
“Try again, and use your magestone this time.”
“Yes, sir.”
Eynon didn’t have to reach out to his magestone—he just had to feel their connection. When he tried to lift himself with the flying disk using the power of his magestone moderated by its setting, he rose smoothly from the battlements and joined Damon floating above.
Chee stuck his head out of the top of Eynon’s jacket and decided to climb back to his usual perch on Eynon’s shoulder.
It makes sense that raconettes wouldn’t be bothered by heights, thought Eynon. They spend a lot of time in trees, after all.
“The lake is to the south,” said Damon, waving his arm in the indicated direction. “Follow me.”
“Stir the stew, please,” Eynon shouted to Nûd.
He heard the big man’s voice saying, “As you wish,” as his flying disk sped after Damon’s.
The lake turned out to be more of an inland sea than a lake, at least by Eynon’s standards. It was far larger than the wide spot in the river near the earl’s castle on the Rhuthro beyond the gap. He couldn’t see its southern shore, even though he was floating a hundred feet above its northern end. Eynon thought for a moment and wondered why the water wasn’t covered with ice. Threads of steam were visible wafting up in the late afternoon sunlight.
The Congruent Apprentice (The Congruent Mage Series Book 1) Page 30