subject—nightlord, mammoth, polonium parrot, whatever—as a purple canary. The drawback to that was that if someone caught on to your disguise, they could just look for purple canaries.
A shield, on the other hand, simply acted like a wall. If the locating spell was like a searchlight—to suddenly switch similes—then a shield was a shadowed area that it couldn’t see. The drawback to that was the constant maintenance. Every time a locating spell hit it, looking for the shielded subject or not, it would block the locator, expending some of the shield strength. Over time, it would erode away and eventually fail.
Hmm. Could I build a shield spell enchantment on something? One strong enough that the usual reverse-entropy effect would be enough to undo the damage from locating spells? I thought about it deeply for a couple of minutes. I didn’t know. It would depend on how rapidly the enchantment gained strength and how many location spells wore away at it. But did the reverse-entropy effect depend on how powerful the enchantment was? Was it a compound-interest expansion, or a fixed value? Or were there other variables, such as magical field density and efficiency of the enchantment’s spell design?
I need a laboratory and a spreadsheet.
On the other hand, can a locating spell be told to look for shields? Some types of shields, notably the blocking shields, can be detected and located. That still doesn’t tell you what’s inside the shield, but it does tell you something is hidden… which, given its location and size, may tell you something more.
All right, until I can plot some curves, I’ll just have to regularly check and maintain two spells… well, three, because I’ll also want a spell to alter my skin color at night. Being a bloodthirsty creature of darkness makes people nervous; no point in rubbing their noses in it.
On the other hand, maybe there was a simpler way. An Ascension Sphere absorbed ambient magical energy. A Disruption Sphere, on the other hand, absorbed waves of energy—spells.
I experimented for a bit, building magical structures and throwing energy at them. What I worked out was a fairly effective system. A shield spell doesn’t have to block a location pulse if it absorbs the location pulse. Come to that, it doesn’t have to block a mind-affecting spell, either. Or a spell designed to freeze my heart into a solid lump of ice—which happened once. It can absorb the incoming spell, instead.
Much like an Ascension Sphere, this would absorb active magical energy directed at me, rather than just soaking it up from the environment. Instead of acting like a hole at the edge of a swimming pool, allowing water to constantly trickle through it, this would be set at a higher level. It would only absorb power when waves of it rose above the normal ambient level. Perhaps just as important, it wouldn’t pump that power into the interior and keep it. It would simply ground it out, discharge it into the local magical environment. And, best of all, it wouldn’t interfere with my ability to throw spells out through it.
The major limitation would be how much power it could handle in a burst. Like a lightning rod, it could ground out the charge, but if the bolt of lightning was big enough, it would fry the rod.
I looked around the hall. I didn’t see any scrying portals, but my paranoia was acting up. I decided to step inside my mental study and do some preliminary work, rather than risk allowing some random observer to get a good look at how my magical defenses were set up. Besides, I didn’t want a Disruption Sphere; that could be annoying. I want something that will cling to me—maybe Disruption Armor. I could cast the spell on my armor, or on the padding underneath, so it was more form-fitting…
I settled back on the throne, closed my eyes, and stepped inside my own head.
The place was a mess.
I usually walk through a mental door into a home office sort of environment. A leather couch
A shield, on the other hand, simply acted like a wall. If the locating spell was like a searchlight—to suddenly switch similes—then a shield was a shadowed area that it couldn’t see. The drawback to that was the constant maintenance. Every time a locating spell hit it, looking for the shielded subject or not, it would block the locator, expending some of the shield strength. Over time, it would erode away and eventually fail.
Hmm. Could I build a shield spell enchantment on something? One strong enough that the usual reverse-entropy effect would be enough to undo the damage from locating spells? I thought about it deeply for a couple of minutes. I didn’t know. It would depend on how rapidly the enchantment gained strength and how many location spells wore away at it. But did the reverse-entropy effect depend on how powerful the enchantment was? Was it a compound-interest expansion, or a fixed value? Or were there other variables, such as magical field density and efficiency of the enchantment’s spell design?
I need a laboratory and a spreadsheet.
On the other hand, can a locating spell be told to look for shields? Some types of shields, notably the blocking shields, can be detected and located. That still doesn’t tell you what’s inside the shield, but it does tell you something is hidden… which, given its location and size, may tell you something more.
All right, until I can plot some curves, I’ll just have to regularly check and maintain two spells… well, three, because I’ll also want a spell to alter my skin color at night. Being a bloodthirsty creature of darkness makes people nervous; no point in rubbing their noses in it.
On the other hand, maybe there was a simpler way. An Ascension Sphere absorbed ambient magical energy. A Disruption Sphere, on the other hand, absorbed waves of energy—spells.
I experimented for a bit, building magical structures and throwing energy at them. What I worked out was a fairly effective system. A shield spell doesn’t have to block a location pulse if it absorbs the location pulse. Come to that, it doesn’t have to block a mind-affecting spell, either. Or a spell designed to freeze my heart into a solid lump of ice—which happened once. It can absorb the incoming spell, instead.
Much like an Ascension Sphere, this would absorb active magical energy directed at me, rather than just soaking it up from the environment. Instead of acting like a hole at the edge of a swimming pool, allowing water to constantly trickle through it, this would be set at a higher level. It would only absorb power when waves of it rose above the normal ambient level. Perhaps just as important, it wouldn’t pump that power into the interior and keep it. It would simply ground it out, discharge it into the local magical environment. And, best of all, it wouldn’t interfere with my ability to throw spells out through it.
The major limitation would be how much power it could handle in a burst. Like a lightning rod, it could ground out the charge, but if the bolt of lightning was big enough, it would fry the rod.
I looked around the hall. I didn’t see any scrying portals, but my paranoia was acting up. I decided to step inside my mental study and do some preliminary work, rather than risk allowing some random observer to get a good look at how my magical defenses were set up. Besides, I didn’t want a Disruption Sphere; that could be annoying. I want something that will cling to me—maybe Disruption Armor. I could cast the spell on my armor, or on the padding underneath, so it was more form-fitting…
I settled back on the throne, closed my eyes, and stepped inside my own head.
The place was a mess.
I usually walk through a mental door into a home office sort of environment. A leather couch
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