frantically about, as if trying
to communicate that this familiarity was none of his doing.
Lady Mama looked ready to faint, and
the Duke pointedly coughed, motioning with his head for his daughter
to retire. As she left with the Lady Marna, Kulgan and Fannon simply
let their amusement show, as did Lyam and Arutha. Roland shot Pug an
angry, envious look, then turned and headed off toward his own
quarters. Lord Borric said to Kulgan, “Take this boy to his
room. He looks exhausted. I’ll order food sent to him. Have him
come to the great hall after tomorrow’s morning meal.” He
turned to Pug. “Again, I thank you.” The Duke motioned
for his sons to follow and walked away. Fannon gripped Tomas by the
elbow, for the sandy-haired boy had started to speak with his friend.
The old Swordmaster motioned with his head that the boy should come
with him, leaving Pug in peace. Tomas nodded, though he was burning
with a thousand questions.
When they had all left, Kulgan placed
his arm around the boy’s shoulder. “Come, Pug. You’re
tired, and there is much to speak of.”
Pug lay back on his pallet, the remains
of his meal lying on a platter next to him. He couldn’t
remember ever having been this tired before Kulgan paced back and
forth across the room. “It’s absolutely incredible.”
He waved a hand in the air, his red robe surging over his heavy frame
like water flowing over a boulder. “You close your eyes, and
the image of a scroll you saw weeks before appears. You incant the
spell, as if you were holding the scroll in your hand before you, and
the trolls fall. Absolutely incredible.” Sitting down on the
stool near the window, he continued. “Pug, nothing like this
has ever been done before. Do you know what you’ve done?”
Pug started from the edge of a warm,
soft sleep and looked at the magician. “Only what I said I did,
Kulgan.”
“Yes, but do you have any idea
what it means?”
“No.”
“Neither do I.” The
magician seemed to collapse inside as his excitement left, replaced
by complete uncertainty. “I don’t have the slightest idea
what it all means. Magicians don’t toss spells off the top of
their heads. Clerics can, but they have a different focus and
different magic. Do you remember what I taught you about focuses,
Pug?”
Pug winced, not being in the mood to
recite a lesson, but forced himself to sit up. “Anyone who
employs magic must have a focus for the power he uses. Priests have
power to focus their magic through prayer; their incantations are a
form of prayer Magicians use their bodies, or devices, or books and
scrolls.”
“Correct,” said Kulgan,
“but you have just violated that truism.” He took out his
long pipe and absently stuffed tabac into the bowl. “The spell
you incanted cannot use the caster’s body as a focus It has
been developed to inflict great pain upon another. It can be a very
terrible weapon. But it can be cast only by reading from a scroll
that it is written upon, at the time it’s cast. Why is this?”
Pug forced leaden eyelids open. “The
scroll itself is magic.”
“True. Some magic is intrinsic to
the magician, such as taking on the shape of an animal or smelling
weather. But casting spells outside the body, upon something else,
needs an external focus Trying to incant the spell you used from
memory should have produced terrible pain in you, not the trolls, if
it would have worked at all! That is why magicians developed scrolls,
books, and other devices, to focus that sort of magic in a way that
will not harm the caster. And until today, I would have sworn that no
one alive could have made that spell work without the scroll in
hand.”
Leaning against the windowsill, Kulgan
puffed on his pipe for a moment, gazing out into space. “It’s
as if you have discovered a completely new form of magic,” he
said softly. Hearing no response, Kulgan looked down at the boy, who
was deeply asleep. Shaking his head in wonder, the magician pulled
to communicate that this familiarity was none of his doing.
Lady Mama looked ready to faint, and
the Duke pointedly coughed, motioning with his head for his daughter
to retire. As she left with the Lady Marna, Kulgan and Fannon simply
let their amusement show, as did Lyam and Arutha. Roland shot Pug an
angry, envious look, then turned and headed off toward his own
quarters. Lord Borric said to Kulgan, “Take this boy to his
room. He looks exhausted. I’ll order food sent to him. Have him
come to the great hall after tomorrow’s morning meal.” He
turned to Pug. “Again, I thank you.” The Duke motioned
for his sons to follow and walked away. Fannon gripped Tomas by the
elbow, for the sandy-haired boy had started to speak with his friend.
The old Swordmaster motioned with his head that the boy should come
with him, leaving Pug in peace. Tomas nodded, though he was burning
with a thousand questions.
When they had all left, Kulgan placed
his arm around the boy’s shoulder. “Come, Pug. You’re
tired, and there is much to speak of.”
Pug lay back on his pallet, the remains
of his meal lying on a platter next to him. He couldn’t
remember ever having been this tired before Kulgan paced back and
forth across the room. “It’s absolutely incredible.”
He waved a hand in the air, his red robe surging over his heavy frame
like water flowing over a boulder. “You close your eyes, and
the image of a scroll you saw weeks before appears. You incant the
spell, as if you were holding the scroll in your hand before you, and
the trolls fall. Absolutely incredible.” Sitting down on the
stool near the window, he continued. “Pug, nothing like this
has ever been done before. Do you know what you’ve done?”
Pug started from the edge of a warm,
soft sleep and looked at the magician. “Only what I said I did,
Kulgan.”
“Yes, but do you have any idea
what it means?”
“No.”
“Neither do I.” The
magician seemed to collapse inside as his excitement left, replaced
by complete uncertainty. “I don’t have the slightest idea
what it all means. Magicians don’t toss spells off the top of
their heads. Clerics can, but they have a different focus and
different magic. Do you remember what I taught you about focuses,
Pug?”
Pug winced, not being in the mood to
recite a lesson, but forced himself to sit up. “Anyone who
employs magic must have a focus for the power he uses. Priests have
power to focus their magic through prayer; their incantations are a
form of prayer Magicians use their bodies, or devices, or books and
scrolls.”
“Correct,” said Kulgan,
“but you have just violated that truism.” He took out his
long pipe and absently stuffed tabac into the bowl. “The spell
you incanted cannot use the caster’s body as a focus It has
been developed to inflict great pain upon another. It can be a very
terrible weapon. But it can be cast only by reading from a scroll
that it is written upon, at the time it’s cast. Why is this?”
Pug forced leaden eyelids open. “The
scroll itself is magic.”
“True. Some magic is intrinsic to
the magician, such as taking on the shape of an animal or smelling
weather. But casting spells outside the body, upon something else,
needs an external focus Trying to incant the spell you used from
memory should have produced terrible pain in you, not the trolls, if
it would have worked at all! That is why magicians developed scrolls,
books, and other devices, to focus that sort of magic in a way that
will not harm the caster. And until today, I would have sworn that no
one alive could have made that spell work without the scroll in
hand.”
Leaning against the windowsill, Kulgan
puffed on his pipe for a moment, gazing out into space. “It’s
as if you have discovered a completely new form of magic,” he
said softly. Hearing no response, Kulgan looked down at the boy, who
was deeply asleep. Shaking his head in wonder, the magician pulled
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