Some excuse to leave, at least …
Gowel sighed. “By your expression I am well marked already. Tell me, young Ironsmelter, where do you think magic comes from?”
Tyen looked up. “The atmosphere.”
“How did it get there?”
“From the sun, or generated by lightning.”
“Theories that have never been proven.” Gowel leaned forward. “On your visit to Mailand you must have noticed that there is more magic in the atmosphere the further away you are from cities – particularly Belton. Or perhaps it is better to put it this way: the closer to the cities you are, the less magic there is. Whatever the source of magic is, cities are using it too fast for it to replenish itself. Do you agree with that?”
Tyen shrugged. “I suppose.”
“So what should we do about it?”
“Use less?”
Gowel nodded. “And make more.”
As Tyen tried to hide his dismay, the adventurer chuckled again.
“Ah, I see your fear. I am not saying what you think I’m saying. The idea that creativity generates magic is too foolish to be true. Then your grandmother darning your socks could be creating it. However, just because an idea is old doesn’t mean it doesn’t contain a grain of truth. Magic was once more abundant in our cities than outside of them. History tells us that. It is still more abundant in cities where there are no machines. So the first question you should ask is: why is there more magic in these cities?”
Tyen shook his head to indicate he had no answer.
“Because there are more
people
.” Gowel thumped his fist softly on the table at the last word, startling Tyen enough that he met the adventurer’s gaze, despite his efforts to the contrary.
“It is easy to see how the impression could come about that magic is generated by making things,” Gowel continued. “People are always making things, so why not claim they make magic, too? It’s good for business. It attracts commissions from the wealthy and powerful.” He waved a hand dismissively. “Most likely magic is a more earthly emission. A by-product of human existence, like sweat or excrement or body heat.”
“But Belton contains more than a million people,” Tyen pointed out. “Surely that would generate a lot of … by-product.”
Gowel nodded. “What makes Belton so different? Machines! All gobbling up magic faster than even this great city can replace it.”
Tyen tore his gaze away from the adventurer’s intense stare. Comparing magic to sweat or excrement did not lend his explanation much appeal, yet the idea that magic was a by-product – an emanation – from the presence of humanity had a pleasing simplicity.
And there has to be a reason why people believed that creators made magic, I suppose, even if they were wrong.
“So … we need to get rid of the machines?” he prompted.
Gowel let out a short laugh. “Of course not. But we should be judicious in their use. Stop wasting magic on indulgences. Make the machines more efficient.”
Tyen nodded. Gowel’s theory made sense. It was based on evidence and logic. The radicals weren’t as foolish as he’d been led to believe. At least, this one wasn’t.
“Can you prove this?” he asked.
Gowel sighed. “Not easily. Only by taking others far outside the draining caused by the great cities, to the lands I have visited where the cities are rich in magic, could I convince them of what I’ve found.”
“So why don’t you? Do they refuse to go?”
“Either that, or they point out that when they return they will be accused of being radicals, too.”
“You have to find another way to prove it, then. Or convince enough people to make opinion sway in your direction.”
Gowel looked at Tyen appraisingly. Tyen felt his face warming as he realised he was agreeing with a radical viewpoint.
Of course, Gowel could be lying. I’m not sure why he would, though. I wish I had Vella with me. I could get him to touch her, then ask her if he was telling the truth … oh!
He sat up
Gowel sighed. “By your expression I am well marked already. Tell me, young Ironsmelter, where do you think magic comes from?”
Tyen looked up. “The atmosphere.”
“How did it get there?”
“From the sun, or generated by lightning.”
“Theories that have never been proven.” Gowel leaned forward. “On your visit to Mailand you must have noticed that there is more magic in the atmosphere the further away you are from cities – particularly Belton. Or perhaps it is better to put it this way: the closer to the cities you are, the less magic there is. Whatever the source of magic is, cities are using it too fast for it to replenish itself. Do you agree with that?”
Tyen shrugged. “I suppose.”
“So what should we do about it?”
“Use less?”
Gowel nodded. “And make more.”
As Tyen tried to hide his dismay, the adventurer chuckled again.
“Ah, I see your fear. I am not saying what you think I’m saying. The idea that creativity generates magic is too foolish to be true. Then your grandmother darning your socks could be creating it. However, just because an idea is old doesn’t mean it doesn’t contain a grain of truth. Magic was once more abundant in our cities than outside of them. History tells us that. It is still more abundant in cities where there are no machines. So the first question you should ask is: why is there more magic in these cities?”
Tyen shook his head to indicate he had no answer.
“Because there are more
people
.” Gowel thumped his fist softly on the table at the last word, startling Tyen enough that he met the adventurer’s gaze, despite his efforts to the contrary.
“It is easy to see how the impression could come about that magic is generated by making things,” Gowel continued. “People are always making things, so why not claim they make magic, too? It’s good for business. It attracts commissions from the wealthy and powerful.” He waved a hand dismissively. “Most likely magic is a more earthly emission. A by-product of human existence, like sweat or excrement or body heat.”
“But Belton contains more than a million people,” Tyen pointed out. “Surely that would generate a lot of … by-product.”
Gowel nodded. “What makes Belton so different? Machines! All gobbling up magic faster than even this great city can replace it.”
Tyen tore his gaze away from the adventurer’s intense stare. Comparing magic to sweat or excrement did not lend his explanation much appeal, yet the idea that magic was a by-product – an emanation – from the presence of humanity had a pleasing simplicity.
And there has to be a reason why people believed that creators made magic, I suppose, even if they were wrong.
“So … we need to get rid of the machines?” he prompted.
Gowel let out a short laugh. “Of course not. But we should be judicious in their use. Stop wasting magic on indulgences. Make the machines more efficient.”
Tyen nodded. Gowel’s theory made sense. It was based on evidence and logic. The radicals weren’t as foolish as he’d been led to believe. At least, this one wasn’t.
“Can you prove this?” he asked.
Gowel sighed. “Not easily. Only by taking others far outside the draining caused by the great cities, to the lands I have visited where the cities are rich in magic, could I convince them of what I’ve found.”
“So why don’t you? Do they refuse to go?”
“Either that, or they point out that when they return they will be accused of being radicals, too.”
“You have to find another way to prove it, then. Or convince enough people to make opinion sway in your direction.”
Gowel looked at Tyen appraisingly. Tyen felt his face warming as he realised he was agreeing with a radical viewpoint.
Of course, Gowel could be lying. I’m not sure why he would, though. I wish I had Vella with me. I could get him to touch her, then ask her if he was telling the truth … oh!
He sat up
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