Thaumaturge

by Terry Mancour

  “Kinky,” Pentandra murmured.

  “In an arcane sort of way,” Taren grinned. “He did full thaumaturgical work-ups on dozens of mothers, enough to assemble a body of statistical evidence. It’s quite innovative, in its way.”

  “Which showed what?” I asked, genuinely intrigued. Natal magic was just not a subject that anyone had studied, to my knowledge.

  “That the separation of the child’s arcane shroud from the mother during the birthing process produces a brief but intense flare of arcane energy between them,” he reported. “Even after they are separated, they remain entrained, if both survive. That initial flare in the birthing process acts as a kind of relief of arcane energies that build up during labor and delivery process.”

  “They do?” I asked, surprised. I had no idea.

  “Oh, certainly,” Taren nodded. “We haven’t seen it because we weren’t looking for it. That kind of traumatic stress in the human mind produces a build-up of residual energy, down to the cellular level. In most non-Talented women, Dunselen records, the energy dissipates over the course of days or even weeks. Same with the babe, although he insists that there remains a residual thaumaturgical tether between the two that he theorized lasted until weaning.”

  “To what purpose?” I asked, genuinely intrigued. “Protection and support?”

  “Of course!” Pentandra agreed. “I felt it myself, when I gave birth. It’s a subtle magic, one that I’m a little more aware of because of my Talent, and because I pay attention to such things. But I also think that some latent maternal Talent becomes more prominent in non-Talented mothers,” she theorized. “I don’t know, but it would be a fascinating project. In any case, I can ‘feel’ my girls, magically, in ways that belie easy awareness. The priestesses tell it off as ‘Trygg’s Gift,’ a mother’s intuition, but I think there’s more to it than that.”

  “Don’t discount the role of the divine,” Taren warned. “That’s the other important thing that Dunselen theorized. Based on his research there was an unexplainable surge of energy that went beyond mere natural ‘life magic.’ The Natal Flare, he called it. He thought it involved the tiniest bit of divine energy.”

  “Divine energy?” Pentandra asked. “That can be quantified? I mean, that’s not really my field, but . . .”

  “Divine power can barely be detected, by traditional thaumaturgy,” I pointed out. “And for once the Alka Alon are no help, even though it fascinates them, as it is a uniquely human expression of the arcane.”

  “Usually a thaumaturge will use it to explain anything he can’t otherwise explain,” agreed Taren.

  “But then there are some definite manifestations of such energy, especially when the gods are themselves manifest in the vicinity,” I added, thinking of my recent conversation with Slagur the Cunning.

  “Min’s right, it can barely be detected, much less quantified,” Taren agreed. “But if true, it would mean every human birth was, literally, a moment of divinity. A very brief moment. An instant. Less than a second, from what Dunselen observed. But it’s a distinctly magical second. Reality, itself, is known to be malleable in such circumstances,” he reminded me. “For a Talented mother and Talented child, such energies could, theoretically, be shaped.”

  “No mother in her right mind is going to cast a spell in the middle of a delivery!” Pentandra insisted with a snort. “It was all I could do to keep from killing my husband!”

  “Of course not,” Taren soothed. “I don’t think a normal spell would work with divine energy, anyway. Except in a very few, select circumstances,” he qualified. “Simply using a rayleth rune and pumping it with a lot of arcane power during a birthing would not do it, I think,” he said, answering my question before I could ask. “In fact, Dunselen tried that six times. Three with common women, three with Talented women. None of them produced the desired effect.”

  “So what did?” I prompted. “Or, at least as close as he came?”

  “He had his first success with transformation when he actually produced what he called ‘red rock’,” Taren said, taking a sample from the shelf and laying it on the book. “That Trial number six, and this sample is from the stones of the tower in the abbey he rented. Trial Six involved a non-Talented mother,” he added. “From his notes, he says that the mother had fallen on the way to the temple and started labor early.” That produced a sympathetic wince from Pentandra.

  “It was nearly two days of hard labor after the fall,” Taren related, shaking his head sympathetically. “The baby was troubled in the birthing. Dunselen attempted the rayleth rune, as part of the protocol, and he achieved an unexpected feedback effect that managed a mild transformation in a very small area. No more than twenty feet, but in a sphere,” he reported. “All the lower tower was affected within it.”

  “What kind of effect?” Pentandra asked, picking up the rock and viewing it with her pretty, phallic-shaped baculus.

  “Not much,” Taren admitted. “In fact, apart from the change in color and a lowering in hardness of the surrounding limestone, it doesn’t do much at all. Nothing with the etheric density. But the carbon atoms have been affected at the quantum level. I just don’t know how, or what it might do.”

  “I wonder what would happen if you burn it?” I wondered.

  Taren looked surprised. “I hadn’t thought about that. But carbon . . . well, we can explore that another time,” he said, shaking his head. “Let’s get back to Dunselen. And Isily.”

  “That bitch,” Pentandra said, automatically. “Go on.”

  “When Isily started lending her insights into Dunselen’s research, he began to take a more direct approach. She reworked his working protocols, tidied up his results and saw a larger pattern than he did,” he said, unrolling a long scroll over the book written in a different hand than Dunselen’s blocky script.

  “What Isily brought to the table was a much better appreciation of natal magic,” Taren continued. “She understood the metabolic transformation to gestation because she underwent it. And she paid attention. She’d noted the Natal Flare, as they began calling it, in her own first birth. When she began joining Dunselen in his observations she refined the technique.

  “That led to the second success, at a village inn in Flad,” he said, picking up the scroll, “another traumatic birth. This time the Natal Flare was observed by both, though Isily’s observations were more precise,” he admitted. “She noted a series of thaumaturgical after-effects that Dunselen missed, because he spent all his time making notes and not following up on his subjects.”

  “She was thorough,” I said, grudgingly.

  “And observant,” Taren agreed. “She took measurements of everything, including the area of effect. Another sphere, this one about ninety feet in diameter, but without so distinct a horizon. There were even some off-shoots from the area. The element transformed this time was . . . lead. Only residual traces from the spell, alas, as there was little lead in the area. Dunselen brought back some of the few pure examples, and the dirt is a little funny, but there’s little in the way of specimens from Trial Number Nine. But it did produce an effect.”

  “What does it do?” Penny asked, curious.

  “As far as I can tell, it blocks the passage of thaumaturgic currents,” he explained. “At least in my initial assays. I’ve a pewter pitcher that can absorb a full magical blast, just absorb it, with no ill effect. I think the energy gets redirected back into the Magosphere through a lateral vibrational transformation, but that’s just conjecture. There’s definitely a surge in ambient energy in the vicinity.”

  “That’s fascinating!” I remarked. “Is it useful?”

  “In theory? Perhaps. In practice? Not unless we can make more. It’s more of a curiosity, otherwise. Shall I continue?” I nodded.

  “Dunselen’s next big advance was at Greenflower Castle, itself,” Taren said, opening a second book. “By this time, he had his men acquiring pretty young peasant maids, particularly those who might have Talent, for
his experiments. Isily assured him that a strong male line produced a superior infant at birth, and he had some evidence of that in his previous research. And an outstanding example in Minalan,” he added, causing me to blush. “The latter event persuaded Dunselen, if the permission from his wife to rut with innumerable teenage girls wasn’t alluring enough. One can tell at just a cursory glance that the man suffered a terrible inferiority complex when it came to the Spellmonger.”

  “It didn’t help that he really was inferior,” I pointed out.

  “In truth,” Taren agreed. “The first three trials of the new crop of expectant mothers came to term without any discernable effect from the spell. The fourth, however, proved propitious.

  “She was a young woman who apparently resisted Dunselen’s advances mightily, and then tried to harm the baby in the womb. Eventually she had to be restrained. But when her daughter was born at Greenflower Castle, the birth was . . . troublesome. The mother died in labor. The rayleth spell proved helpful in separation, and the Natal Flare was large – nearly a hundred and twenty feet in diameter.”

  “What did it produce?” Penny prompted.

  “Greenstone,” he said, revealing a sample. “Indeed, copper is the affected element, so it’s actually a green metal, if you want to be technical. The transformation was significant, infecting a lot of the ground where minerals included it, and the bodies of those within the sphere at the time of the enchantment. The visible signs passed within a few days, as the affected copper was metabolized out, but there was still a lot of residual effect months later.”

  “But what does it do?” Penny urged, eagerly.

  “Oh, you’ll like this,” he grinned. “Depending on purity and proximity to the epicenter of the spell effect, greenstone can increase the efficiency of the transformation of thaumaturgical current!” he said, eagerly. “That could be an incredible benefit for enchantment,” he added. “I took about six pounds of samples over to the bouleuterion for experiments.

  “And then there is Trial Fifteen, producing Bluestone from Saleisis Castle,” he said, growing more serious. “That was where Dunselen moved his operations, once his vassals started to complain about his experiments. And that’s where he had his greatest success, with the birth of Isily’s son, Istman.”

  “And Bluestone allows interaction with the Otherworld,” Penny concluded. “So, what have we learned from this?” she asked.

  “That Dunselen and Isily were horrible, manipulative, exploitive people for whom the ends justified some pretty icky means?” I posited.

  “While I don’t disagree, that wasn’t what I was getting at. What did the affected births in all the successful trials have in common?” she asked, patiently.

  “Dunselen’s presence?” Taren asked.

  “Dunselen wasn’t anywhere near Minalan on that night,” she reminded him. “I was speaking in general, of all the cases. Including Snowstone.”

  “What?” I demanded. “I could guess all night, but . . .”

  “Prenatal trauma, of various sorts,” Pentandra answered, smugly. “In each case the fetus was threatened, to some degree.

  “Please follow my reasoning, gentlemen: from my own experience, I theorize that the mother-child relationship creates a natural thaumaturgical effect as the child develops first biologically, then mentally and emotionally, toward the birth experience. The natural magic involved would likely be protective in nature,” she suggested, “an arcane extension of the hyper-protective state most mothers enter into after pregnancy.”

  “I can see that,” I nodded. Taren agreed, as well.

  “In the case of a more-Talented subject, consider what would happen if those arcane defenses are activated – if the fetus is threatened,” Pentandra reasoned. “Or the mother, but I’d think that the defense of the baby would be the first priority. If the arcane action follows the subconscious intent of the mother to protect the baby, then what you’re looking at is a kind of natural warding system.”

  “That would imply that Minalyan was somehow traumatized in the womb,” Taren said, uneasily, as he glanced at me.

  “It’s recently come to my attention that he was,” I admitted., quietly. “During my honeymoon. It’s a . . . complicated story, but Alya was present for a magical duel between Alka Alon. That would be enough trauma to engage those wards, I’d think.”

  “That would probably do it,” Taren conceded. “But how does that explain the use of the ryleth rune and the Natal Flare effect to produce elemental transformation?” he asked.

  “It doesn’t,” Pentandra conceded. “But it does explain why there wasn’t a Natal Flare effect in some cases. I would wager that the mothers in those cases had relatively easy pregnancies without trauma. So they had no natal wards in place,” she reasoned. “Those wards somehow have an activating effect.”

  “You realize that that’s a testable hypothesis,” Taren pointed out, uneasily. “Icky and cruel, but testable?”

  “So it is,” she agreed, grimly. “But let’s work in the other direction before we start rounding up pregnant mothers. If that uterine experience of trauma is a necessary precursor to the effect, we’ve narrowed our mode of action. We establish the nature of the prenatal wards and we can figure out how they interact with the rayleth rune. Any ideas?”

  There were a few moments of silence as we all thought about the question. Finally, Taren spoke.

  “Is there any indication of how the prenatal wards are cast?” he asked, curious. “I mean, are we certain that they’re the product of the mother?”

  I sat up straight. “That’s a very interesting question,” I agreed, eagerly. “I suppose we could conduct dozens of rigorous experiments to establish that. Or . . . we could ask the gods.”

  Taren looked at me skeptically. He’d heard about my dalliance with the divine, but had yet to experience it in full. “The gods? Minalan, are you certain—”

  “This involves issues of conception, birth and magic,” I sighed. “Including divine magic. We happen to have a few experts in those realms with unique insight into the process. We would be remiss as researchers not to avail ourselves of that.”

  “You just plan on summoning up a couple of gods to tell us the answer?” he asked with a snort.

  “That’s precisely what I’ll do,” I said, realizing what was in store for me. “In fact . . .” I said, and leaned down to plant a long, lingering kiss on Pentandra’s lips. It surprised the hell out of her, and she swore a soldier’s oath.

  “Ishi’s tits!” she exploded.

  “You called?” a new voice said, from behind the curtains. A moment later Lady Pleasure appeared, dressed as a magelord with too much money and very liberal standards of decency. The boobs Penny invoked were prominently displayed under a luxurious wool gown.

  “How did you do that?” Taren demanded.

  “‘All acts of love and pleasure are my rituals’,” she quoted from her liturgy. “A kiss is but the smallest, but so terribly precious of them. A rite you rarely indulge in, Magelord Taren,” she said, accusingly. “Really, it’s a poor wand that never—”

  “Enough, Ishi,” I said, with quiet authority. She looked startled, but recovered instantly.

  “Of course, Spellmonger,” she said, with a slight courtly curtsy. “To what do I owe the honor of this invocation?”

  “We need some information,” Pentandra said, flatly, unimpressed by Ishi’s flamboyancy. She’d had to deal with “Lady Pleasure” for more than a year in Vorone, until the palace got destroyed. It would take more than a busty display of pure primal femininity to impress her. “It’s a little outside of your area,” she conceded, “but we thought you’d might know.

  “When a fetus encounters trauma, by what mechanism is the Natal Ward effect cast?” she asked.

  Ishi looked startled again. “The . . . oh! That thing that happens, sometimes. That’s really more of a Trygg question,” she pointed out, actually considering the question. “I know it’s not a direct product of concep
tion, but . . . hmmm,” she said, her eyes deep in thought. “That is an interesting question. I’ll have to ask Trygg.”

  “What about conception?” I asked, suddenly. I didn’t think there was anything particularly magical about it, technically speaking. Orgasm, yes, but conception?

  Ishi took a deep breath. “All right. When a mommy and a daddy love each other sooooo much—”

  “I was speaking of the thaumaturgical aspect,” I replied, dryly. “We were discussing the effect of the so-called Natal Flare, which apparently includes just a spark of divine magical energy. I was just wondering if perhaps something like that happens at the moment of conception.”

  “Actually,” Ishi admitted, “there is an effect. It’s not quite divine – well, it is when I do it – but following the instant upsurge in life energy at the moment of orgasm, which is where Pentandra has spent the bulk of her professional career, there is another surge of profound life energy from the moment of conception to the quickening that, in some women, can manifest as a near-divine expression of power. Trygg loves those bitches,” Ishi assured us, wickedly. “They tend to be powerful mothers. Alas, they often start off as dedicated pleasure enthusiasts, so I lose doubly in the equation.”

  “That’s . . . intriguing,” I conceded. “But not particularly helpful.”

  “That’s pregnancy,” she said, screwing up her face unpleasantly. “It’s rarely helpful.”

  “Except, in this case, it is,” Taren pointed out, clearly aroused by the Goddess of Love but clinging resolutely to his intellect. “The release of the Natal Flare caused the snowstone effect. We need to replicate it. We know divine power was involved, we even know which divinity. But we need to understand the method of action if we’re to replicate the results.”

  “Well, if you need anyone in particular knocked-up, let me know,” Ishi shrugged. “I’m working on the fertility of Vanador, at the moment, so someone local would be helpful.”