Knights Magi (Book 4) (6 page)

“I, Sir, do not ‘lumber’,” Stanal said, self-consciously.  “I . . .
amble
.”

“You’re going to amble yourself into a blade, if you fight like that.  Don’t
ever
let an opponent get behind you like that.  A big sword doesn’t make any difference if you have a slit throat.”

“I still think you used warmagic,” Stanal said, sullenly. 

Tyndal laughed.  “If I had used warmagic, I could have slaughtered both of you in an instant.  I don’t practice with augmented senses.  It defeats the purpose.”  He spoke authoritatively on the subject . . . because he had been lectured about it dozens of times by his various sword masters, Master Minalan, included. 

“Why wouldn’t you?” Kaffin asked.

“The point of sparring isn’t to show how deadly you are, it’s to work on your technique and reflexes.  Using warmagic to win doesn’t help your technique and reflexes.”

“But . . . you do know warmagic, right?” Kaffin asked.  Tyndal put down his sword.

“Yes, some,” he admitted.  “It’s . . . useful.”

“I might become a warmage,” Stanal said, thoughtfully.  “They say that’s about the only way to get irionite.”

“Even then, it’s no guarantee,” Tyndal agreed.  “There are hundreds of professional warmagi in line for them.  There are less than a hundred High Magi.”

“But
you’re
one,” Stanal pointed out, as if Tyndal didn’t deserve to be.

“I was in the wrong place at the right time, or something like that.  But if you want one now you have to get it the hard way . . .”

“You are so
lucky!
” Kaffin fumed, enviously.

Tyndal stopped and whirled around to face the boy from the coast. 

“Lucky?  Do you know what it’s like to have your home ripped away and destroyed?  Half the people you ever knew dead, some of them . . .
eaten?
  Your home turned into an abomination and a home for abomination?  Do you have any idea what it’s like to know that that . . . that
thing
is out there, and he won’t rest until every man, woman and child in the Duchies is dead? 
And he doesn’t even sleep!”

Both of the boys looked at Tyndal, shocked by his reaction.  Tyndal was shocked a bit himself.  He realized he was clenching the practice sword as hard as he possibly could.  Hard enough to hurt his hand. 

With a sudden spark of reason he realized that if he lost control, he could inadvertently tap into his stone and unintentionally do something regrettable.  Like kill a couple of students who probably didn’t deserve it.

“Sorry,” he whispered.  “Long day.”  He tossed the wooden sword back at the rack.  It missed, clattering to the ground.  He didn’t pick it up.  “That’s enough relaxation for one day.  I’ve got to go face Lesser Elemental Theory, now.”

*
                            *                            *

*
                            *                            *

Tyndal returned to his quarters he shared with Rondal in the North Tower after his long and intense session with Mistress Selvedine. 

It had not gone well.

The tyrannical old bag had questioned him thoroughly and relentlessly . . . and gotten
“I don’t know, Mistress”
for her trouble more times than not.  She had grown increasingly impatient with his ignorance, and as each new question arose Tyndal became more and more intimidated.  After the first twelve or thirteen lesser elements he had had to confess his ignorance of the others.  He even confused the Sacred Number of Carbon with that of Silicon.  That had caused an eye-roll and a snort of disgust. 

By the end of the examination, there was no doubt what the venerable mistress of magic thought about Tyndal’s education.  Whatever else he would do in his professional future, alchemy and enchantment were unlikely to be major elements of it.

The fact that he had spent almost a year fighting goblins, running for his life from the Censorate, and helping re-organize the way magic was administered in the new kingdom impressed her not at all.  Not even his witchstone impressed her – in fact, he thought she found it insulting.  At least that’s how she sounded when she lectured him: power without knowledge, she had said at least five times during the interview, was as useful as being in a boat in a storm without a sail.

But even that insult wasn’t the worst of it.  She had ended the examination by writing him out a list of
thirty-two
books and scrolls she advised him to read . . . before he left Inarion.  Some of them, she pointed out, were the only copies in the world, and should be savored for their rarity.  Most were odiously boring, judging by their titles. 
Introduction to Alchemy.  The Meaning And Purpose Of Lesser Elemental Theory.  Yrentia’s Gift: A Practical Tour Of The Elements.
  And more.  Many,
many
more.

When he got back to the visitors’ room in the North Tower they’d been given to share late that afternoon, Rondal was also back from his afternoon exams, sitting at the big, highly-polished wooden table in the double room. But he seemed far more pleased with himself than Tyndal was.

“So how’d you do?” he asked, eagerly.  Without waiting for a response, he continued to prattle: “Master Indan and Master Trondel were both impressed with my knowledge of practical thaumaturgy and magical materials – they said I had the makings of a first-rate enchanter, should I choose to specialize!  Or even a thaumaturge, if I felt like going an academic route.  They’re going to pass me on the thaumaturgy part of the exam for certain!”

“That’s . . .
great
,” Tyndal said, without enthusiasm as he flopped into the other chair in the room.  “Mistress Selvedine was less charitable.  I, apparently, am a
young idiot
.”

“Well, she could have just asked
me
, and I would have saved her some time,” teased Rondal, uncharacteristically. 

That surprised Tyndal.  So he wasn’t above that sort of thing.  It was perhaps the most interesting thing he’d said in months, in Tyndal’s estimation.  And the most telling.

“I kind of wish she had,” admitted the disheartened “senior” apprentice.  “She said I had almost no understanding of rudimentary lesser elemental theory, thaumaturgy, magical theory, or anything beyond . . .
cantrip
magic.  She hinted I might make a good market-day conjurer, if it wasn’t for my glass.”

“That seems a bit . . . harsh,” Rondal said, putting down his book.  “I mean, that would take you a couple of
years
of practice, and you don’t really have ‘showmanship’ down, exactly.  Maybe if you studied with my friend Baston—”

“I’m a bloody
Knight Mage
, not a market stall conjurer!” exploded Tyndal, annoyed.  “Why in six hells do I need to know how magic bloody
works?
  All I need to know is how to work
it!
”

“It’s actually a lot easier when you understand the theory,” soothed Rondal.  “But I agree, some of the concepts are a bit . . . obtuse.”

“I know!  I’m struggling, here!”

“For example, we know energy cannot be created or destroyed . . . but when we do magic, we’re ‘borrowing’ energy from the cosmos, or ‘returning’ it.  With our
brains
.”

“But it feels like it is just coming out of nowhere!”

“
‘Magic is the arcane art of intertwining of thought and reality, perception and matter, order and chaos into beauty, truth, wisdom and light,’
quoted Rondal from some important book Tyndal probably should be able to recall.  “Magic is essentially powered thought.  And it’s hard to put a thought into a measuring cup.”

“That’s
exactly
the kind of bullshit I’m talking about,” sighed Tyndal wearily.  “Why would I
need
to know that?”

“Because it helps to know how it works if you’re trying to do a really complicated spell,” Rondal reasoned.  “Look, I’m sure Mistress Selvedine suggested a book or two—”

“Actually,” Tyndal said, unfurling the parchment she had sent him along with, “I have
over thirty
here.  Apparently our master did not include some elementary texts on the subject in the six months he was teaching me about curing warts on cow udders and other useful crap.”

“Ouch!” Rondal said, wincing.  “
Thirty
books?”

“Thirty-
two
, actually,” groaned Tyndal.  “And all in one subject!  I haven’t read that many books in my
life!”

“And she wants them read . . . ?”

“Before I leave,” groaned the boy again.  “Sometime when I’m an old man.”

“Oh, c’mon, Tyn,” Rondal said, trying to rally his fellow apprentice as he took a look at the list.  “It isn’t
that
bad.  The first six are pretty short scrolls, and then – oh.  I mean . . .
oh
.  Never mind.  Yeah, it
is
pretty bad.  These two are
only
in High Perwynese.”

“See what I mean?” Tyndal declared in frustration.  “It might as well be in gurvani pictographs!  It’s like they’re determined to fail me!”

“We’re already High Magi,” Rondal said dismissively. “Brave warriors of the Penumbra, and all that.  And we have irionite.  They can’t take
that
away from you.  Only Master Min can.”

“I know, I know,” he sighed.  “That’s part of the problem. 
You
know what kind of stock he places in formal academics.  When he got you as an apprentice I’m sure he wept tears of joy.  When he finds out just how bloody awful I am . . .”

“Relax.  Look, if you read . . .
these
five here . . . then that will cover most of the basics,” suggested Rondal.  “I mean, these others are useful, but when it comes to understanding lesser elemental theory, these are the five that will cover almost everything you need to know.”

“And the other . . . twenty-seven?” he asked, after figuring out the remainder in his head.  “Why those?”

“Because they each cover a specific element or class of elements in lesser elemental theory that these first five don’t.  Not in any depth, at least.  But they can be useful, especially . . . this one, this one and – oh, yeah, that one is brilliant,” he said, reverently, as he finished reading the list.

“You’ve
read
all of these?” Tyndal asked, incredulously.

“No, just . . . well, nine of them.  But I’ve read the summaries of the others.  Useful reference texts for the professional alchemist or enchanter, no doubt, but they don’t really cover basic theory as well as these others.”

“Where did you find the bloody time?” Tyndal said, irritated.  “It takes me weeks to get through a book.  You finish one in a day!”

“It’s just practice,” Rondal said, a little defensively.  “You’ve been reading for only two years or so.  I’ve been reading for eight.  You get faster, the more you do it.”

“All those words make my head hurt!”

Rondal shrugged.  “Just think how hard it would be if you had to find a living authority on each of those subjects,” he reminded him.  “Those books are invaluable.  And once you’ve
read
them, you’ll
know
them.  Lesser elemental theory is the essential building block to alchemy,” he reminded, “not to mention enchantment.”

Tyndal groaned a third time, even more expressively.  “
Don’t
mention enchantment!  Tomorrow I have to face the enchantment masters.  I don’t know
anything
about enchantment, outside of warwands and such.  I’m doomed!”

“You aren’t doomed,” Rondal said, patiently, “you’re
ignorant.
  Doomed can’t be solved.  Ignorance can,” he said, tapping the book Tyndal was supposed to be reading –
Loray of Bannerbane’s Introduction To Thaumaturgy
, one of the five his “junior” apprentice had recommended before his thaumaturgy examination with Master Indan tomorrow.  “If you start on it tonight, maybe you can get a good lead into it by the time you see him.  And then you can study before you see Mistress Selvedine again.”

“Where I can explain to her, proudly, that I am now slightly less ignorant of the Lesser Elements,” Tyndal said, dejectedly.  Rondal looked at him with an amused smirk.

“Well, it beats admitting that you are slightly
more
ignorant, doesn’t it?  Start with Thaumaturgy.  Master Indan is a good scholar.  He’ll be fair.”

Tyndal groaned yet again and picked up the book.  He opened it to the first page and began reading aloud.

“
‘When approaching the delicate art and discipline of Thaumaturgy, that most noble of pursuits for the mage, one must be aware that you are beginning to understand the very nature of magic; for Thaumaturgy is but the Science of magic, just as Medicine is the Science of the body.  The ability to impart one’s Will on the universe and see it resolve to your satisfaction is, of course, the very essence of magic, yet it is practiced by many, understood by few.  The basics of this sublime science are easy to fathom, in general, but when it comes to the practical application of thaumaturgy to the dissection and analysis of a spell, putting those basics into practice can become one of the most difficult tasks any mage ever does.  Beginning with the assumption that magic flows from—
”