Latellian spent her first night as an apprentice in a small but very comfortable room, and was awakened by a firm knocking on the door.
"The Magician bids you good morning, and requests that you join him for breakfast in half an hour," said the Butler from outside. Latellian was relieved that he remained outside. Quite apart from matters of propriety, the Butler was seven feet tall, green, and endowed with an impressive array of talons, fangs and tusks. Latellian had no fear of him - he had never been anything but polite to her - but it was not a sight that she wished to start her day with.
"Yes, thank you." Latellian rose from her bed, reflecting that it had been the best nights sleep she'd had in years. Probably because she had recently shed most of those years and currently resided in the physical form of a twenty year old, whilst still retaining the memories accumulated over seventy years.
It was somewhat confusing, but the positive aspects could not be denied. Such as the ability to sleep soundly for hours and wake up without the various aches and pains that she had become accustomed to.
She also had her appetite back, it seemed. The thought of breakfast aroused an enthusiasm that she had quite forgotten in recent years. Consequently she was up, washed, dressed and on her way downstairs well before the half hour was up. Thinking along the way that she needed to brighten up her wardrobe – her drab old clothing did not go with her new body.
She was not yet familiar with the layout of the Magician's house, but had no trouble finding the dining room: it was the first door she tried. It did occur to her that, this being a Magician's house, any door would have proved to be the right door – but the important thing at the moment was not magic, but food. Her stomach was rumbling.
The Magician Carward took his breakfast in a light, airy room of medium size, with wide windows offering a pleasant view of waves breaking gently on a silvery beach. This was somewhat confusing, since as far as Latellian was aware the nearest such body of water was at least ten days hard travelling away. But 'Magician's house, Magician's rules'.
Of more immediate interest was the long table that occupied most of the room, and the food set upon it. It was an impressive display, both in quantity and variety.
There were several platters of various meats, both hot and cold. There were eggs - fried, boiled, poached and scrambled. There were mushrooms. There were three kinds of bread that she could see, plus the same three, toasted. There was a large tray bearing a mound of small pies, and a number of tureens whose contents were hidden by lids, but from the pleasant way steam leaked from around the edges Latellian thought them likely to be porridges or hot cereals.
There was also an an abundance of fruit, a pot of cream, another of honey, and a selection of jams, marmalades, and savoury spreads - along with a number of jugs and pitchers that she assumed held beverages.
In short, it was not merely a breakfast, it was a week of breakfasts for a large family.
Presiding over this feast, the Magician Carward sat at one end of the table. He was wearing a loose white shirt of plain linen rather than the dark hooded robe that he used to impress visitors. However, the long grey hair and beard, plus bristly eyebrows over intense dark eyes, and a face that Latellian thought of as 'lived in', were quite impressive enough by themselves.
Especially the eyebrows.
"Ah, Latellian, a good day to you," Carward said in greeting. "Please take a seat and have some breakfast."
"Thank you, and a good day to you," Latellian replied.
Carward’s invitation seemed genuine, but there was a problem. The only other chair was at the far end of the long table, opposite Carward's own. And the food was all laid out at his end. At first sight, therefore, 'taking a seat' and 'having some breakfast' seemed to be mutually exclusive instructions.
Latellian suspected a test of some kind, and sighed inwardly. She had hoped to at least be allowed to eat before beginning to learn magic.
She considered the chair. It was quite large, of very solid wooden construction, decorated with carvings of foliage and small birds. It looked heavy, which Latellian confirmed with an experimental tug.
"Something wrong with the chair?" asked Carward, with unconvincing innocence.
"Only that it's too far from the food!", Latellian said. Perhaps a little sharply, but she was feeling very hungry by now.
"Then bring it closer."
"The food or the chair?"
"As you please, but moving the food would be easier."
Latellian walked down the table towards the food end, and Carward rolled his eyes.
"No, no, girl! You're here to learn magic, not table waiting! Sit in the chair and use magic to bring the food to you."
"How am I to do that? You haven't taught me any magic yet." Despite her objection, Latellian returned to the chair and sat down.
"Then we had best get to it, had we not? Tell me, Latellian, what is magic?"
She sighed inwardly, and put aside thoughts of food - as best she could, given the sight and smell of what lay before her. "Well, it's a power that some people have."
Carward shook his head. "No one 'has' magic. Some have the gift, the ability to use magic, but magic itself is a wild creature: no one possesses it. Take note of that! And try again. Think how magic is commonly defined."
Latellian thought. Her schooling had been basic, and a long while ago, but a memory stirred itself. "Magic is... 'The application of Will to Power'. Or so the Brother told us once, when he came by the village to teach us letters and numbers. He was not much in favour of it, as I recall."
"Ah, yes. One of the Dominatus Order of Friars, I presume. They do good work, but can be narrow in their views. Still, you must work with what you have."
He looked expectantly at Latellian, who stared back at him.
He sighed. "Use the knowledge of magic you have."
She thought it over. Magic was a wild thing, but perhaps a strong enough will could control it? She gazed intently at a platter of bacon, fried crispy, and willed it to move in her direction.
It remained firmly in place.
Frowning, she concentrated harder. She imagined the platter sliding across the table top, she commanded it to move, even whispering the words under her breath.
The bacon refused to budge.
Latellian began to feel a headache developing. Perhaps she was trying to move too much? She narrowed her focus to a single rasher, and tried to grasp it with her mind.
Had the bacon stirred at all? Perhaps. Or perhaps it was her imagination.
Carward, in the meantime, applied butter and marmalade to a slice of toast - the conventional way, using a knife - and chewed thoughtfully. "Of course, the Friars are not themselves magicians. They may not have fully understood magic."
"So was he inaccurate? In what way?"
Carward tugged thoughtfully at his beard. "I would not say he was entirely wrong. Certainly will comes into it, but not in so direct a manner."
"That does not help me get my breakfast!" Hunger added a sharp note to Latellian's voice.
"Very well then. Let me rephrase the good Brother's statement, thus: Magic is the Application of Desire to Power."
Latellian waited, but the Magician did not elucidate further. Instead, he took a sausage from one of the platters and commenced eating it.
She did her best to ignore the Magician's actions whilst she pondered his words. What was the difference between desire and will? After all, people's will was very often governed by their desires.
But not always. There were famous ascetics who made a big thing about overcoming their desires by their willpower. And indeed everyone had at some point in their lives had to put aside their desires in order to do something more important. She could recall a good many instances in her own life where she had done that. The desire for sleep, or food, or simply time for herself had so often had to be ignored in order to meet the needs - the desires! - of others. Especially her children.
In fact, the measure of maturity was often the ability to do that, and to recognize when personal desires could be met and when they must be overridden to achieve another objective. Only very young children were completely driven by desire.
Yet, it seemed that now Carward was saying that will must be overruled by desire in order to use magic.
Of course, in this case, her will and her desire were perfectly in tune. She wanted food! But perhaps she needed to try a slightly different approach?
Rather than stare at the bacon, she closed her eyes and focussed on her hunger.
She felt it gnawing at her, the emptiness of her stomach, the tantalizing smells of the vast breakfast, just out of her reach. She tasted saliva in her mouth and imagined the warm crispy bacon there instead. She wanted that bacon, wanted it so badly. Abandoning any attempt at self control she let her hunger loose.
There was a shift, a change, a movement...
Something hit her in the face. Hard enough to slam her head against the high wooden back of the chair.
She opened her eyes and discovered that she was covered in warm crispy bacon. It was in her hair and over her shoulders, it stuck to her clothes and filled her lap. The platter itself remained in its place, but the entire contents had dumped itself on her.
Carward was smiling broadly. "My, you were hungry! A good thing you didn't choose the porridge."
Latellian took a deep breath and composed herself. She picked a rasher out of her lap and took a bite. It tasted every bit as good as it looked and smelled.
"If I had chosen the porridge I might have been burnt," she said. "Would that have been a part of your training program?"
"Well, in all honestly I did not anticipate such a successful first attempt. I myself only managed a single sausage, and it rolled across the table, rather than flew." He met her gaze. "You have great power, Latellian."
"And great hunger," she answered dryly, and ate another piece of bacon. She would have liked something to drink with it, but decided not to take the risk. "And was that the sole purpose of all this?"
"It is something of a tradition amongst magicians. No better way has yet been devised of teaching new apprentices the difference, in magical terms, between will and desire." He beamed at her. "Congratulations! You have learnt the first and most fundamental lesson of magic."
"And what's the second lesson? Lunch?"
Carward shook his head. "You will spend the rest of your apprenticeship learning the next lesson. Indeed, some never do."
"So what is it?"
"It is to learn how to control Desire with Will." He beamed at her. "You still have some bacon in your hair."
In the next few days, a routine was established which seemed likely to persist for some time. Latellian normally breakfasted with Carward, though it was a much more conventional meal than on the first occasion. They discussed various matters, both magical and otherwise, and the Magician set out plans for that day's studies.
After breakfast, Latellian usually spent time in the library, researching various subjects as instructed by Carward. This she found hard to do, at first. Though the Friars had ensured that she had her letters, she had had little time for reading in her previous life, and sitting with a book for hours at a time made her feel mildly guilty. Moreover, the new young body that magic had gifted her was fit, buzzing with energy and ready to be active.
However, as she got deeper into her studies, she began to learn the thrill of intellectual stimulation. Chasing down the fine divisions between will and desire became unexpectedly absorbing: at times, when she stumbled across some illuminating insight or profound observation, it was actually exciting. The previous Latellian, practical and no nonsense, would have scoffed at the idea. The new version found her mind being opened to whole new worlds of thought whose existence she had never dreamed of.
Lunch was usually a solitary affair, often taken in the kitchen, and increasingly with a book to hand in order to extend her reading. The books and passages prescribed by Carward threw up many more interesting alleyways of study that she wanted to explore.
The afternoons were occupied with domestic duties - washing, cleaning, assisting the Butler or the Gardener as required. Hard work had never been something Latellian feared, and indeed she would have welcomed the opportunity for some honest physical labour after the intellectual grind of the morning - except that the Magician required her to do as much of the work as possible by magical means. This could be very frustrating at times: a task as simple as wringing out a mop suddenly required enormous concentration and exhausting mental effort. There was considerable spillage of water, breakage of mop handles and expression of profanity before she mastered the art and was able to move on to actually mopping the floor.
However, she had to admit that the practical experience taught her as much as the theoretical studies. If not more.
The evening meal was once more shared with the Magician, and provided opportunity for reflection and discussion concerning the days lessons, in a relaxed and informal manner. Very often, Carward would illustrate some point by recounting relevant anecdotes. Their discussions were wide-ranging and often ventured into areas Latellian had never considered - had never had cause to consider in her previous life. Art and politics, history (both magical and mundane), geography and economics, the natural world, the sciences - and so on. An evening with Carward was an education in itself.
The days passed, and slipped imperceptibly into weeks, then months. Being a Magician's Apprentice was entirely different from anything she had imagined, or indeed could have imagined. But, in spite of the challenges and frustrations, Latellian found herself more content, more at peace than at any time in her life - long and full though it had been. She was learning magic, she was growing into the person she had always been meant to be. In the same way that the magic had changed her physically, she felt herself changing inwardly: casting off some of the old thinking, the old understanding, the old Latellian and yet becoming more fully Latellian than she had ever been.
The future seemed golden-bright and without blemish. However, she was to learn that the life magical was not without its dangers.
Carward rarely left home, but on occasion his presence was required. Such as, for example, when the King’s son and heir married.
“They don’t really want me,” Carward explained “but I’m the Magician, the only one currently in the Kingdom, so they have to invite me. Can’t risk offending me. And I can’t offend them by not going. So I have to drag my old bones over there in person and endure the hideous boredom of the Court for a few days...”
“Let me get this straight. You don’t want to be there, they don’t want you there, but they still have to invite you and you still have to go?”
He nodded gloomily. “Politics. Seems quite farcical, doesn’t it? But in the long run things work better if everybody observes the proper protocols and formalities. Then they know I haven’t been insulted and therefore probably won’t destroy the Kingdom in a fit of pique. I know they feel reassured and won’t come bothering me to put their minds at rest – or go looking for another magician to challenge me. Which has been known to happen, by the way. Look it up – Forganskire’s ‘War, Politics and Magic’ is a good place to start. Read it while I’m gone.”
“I’m not going with you?” Latellian was disappointed. She quite enjoyed a good wedding, and had never had the opportunity to observer a Royal one.
“Of course not! Half trained magician let loose in society?” He chuckled, and frowned, leaving Latellian wondering if he was joking or serious. “Besides, I’m taking the Butler with me, so someone needs to keep an eye on the place. Not that I’m expecting visitors. Keep up with your studies, and trust me, I won’t be gone a minute longer than I have to be.”
At which point he vanished from her sight, by the simple expedient of stepping out of the front door and closing it behind him. She peered out of the window, and observed him climbing into a perfectly normal carriage, into which the Butler was loading luggage – on completion of which task he himself climbed aboard and the carriage rolled away down the drive.
Perfectly normal apart from the lack of horses, or any other obvious means of propulsion.
She shook her head. Magicians. Even while she was learning to be one, she still struggled to understand them. Or, specifically, to understand Carward since he was the only one she’d actually met in person. (Though her reading suggested that he was not untypical).
“If he’s using magic to travel, why does he need a carriage at all?” she wondered aloud. “Why not just – be – somewhere else?”
Magical forms of transport had not yet featured in her studies. She made a mental note to investigate them – as soon as she’d finished with Forganskire. When Carward got back he would be expecting her to have read it as instructed.
Forganskire proved unexpectedly interesting. He began with an anecdote concerning a Magician who’s failure to observe diplomatic protocols nearly started a war, and went on to discuss various other scenarios. She was fully absorbed when the house chimed.
This was Carward’s version of a door-knocker, and could be heard throughout the house by whosoever had the duty of dealing with visitors. Which would normally be the Butler, but clearly – since she had heard the noise – it had been delegated to her.
The chime sounded again, several times in a row.
“A little patience!” she said to herself. “I’m coming!”
No doubt there were magical means of answering the summons, but she had not yet learned them and there was no time to work them out. So, putting down the Forganskire, she made her way briskly down to the front door.
There were several other chimes along the way, which did not predispose her in favour of the visitor.
Reaching the door at last, she drew the bolt and opened it wide.
“Well, about time!”
The speaker had had his back to the door, so all she saw at first was a long black cloak surmounted by a wave of long black hair. Very shiny and beautifully styled, she noted, remembering at the same time that her own long blonde hair was pulled back into a casual ponytail, which was all she ever bothered to do with it nowadays.
But he turned as he spoke, and she saw his face, and for a brief moment forget everything else.
He was without doubt the most handsome man she had ever laid eyes upon.
The flowing dark locks were a perfect frame for the firmly chiselled jaw, the strong but well-proportioned nose, the ideal balance of cheekbones and temples, the flawless white skin…
… and the eyes! Dark blue. Intense. Deep. Piercing, shining, enigmatic… Latellian ran out of words.
The voice had been strong and melodious, in spite of the irritation it carried. Now, as those amazing eyes fixed on her, the next sentence took on a hint of approval.
“But perhaps it was worth the wait! I must say, Carward seems to have improved his taste in staff! You’re a step up from that ugly monstrosity of a Butler, aren’t you girl? And what’s your name, then?”
This was accompanied by a smile. A twisting of perfect lips to reveal a flash of perfect teeth – the whole thing calculated to send a warm flush through any young maiden’s body.
Except that it was only Latellian’s body that was young. Her much older mind, whilst still appreciating the physical beauty before her, also noted the words and the tone with which he spoke, and was less impressed.
‘Who’s he calling ‘girl’’, she wondered. Even allowing for the fact that she was, to all appearances, little more than a girl, it still sounded arrogant to her, and Latellian didn’t take kindly to arrogance, no matter how nicely packaged.
(Though, talking of packaging, she did notice that his body, under jerkin and trousers of black leather, appeared firm and well proportioned).
However, her mind was not disengaged, even though her body was indeed flushing warmly. The visitor obviously knew about the Butler, which implied that he’d been here before. So perhaps a friend of Carwards and therefore to be given a little leeway.
“I’m Latellian,” she said calmly. “Can I help you, sir?”
He ran his eyes up and down her body in a suggestive way. She had long since discarded her old-peasant-woman garments and currently wore a long skirt in bright orange silk and a white linen short-sleeved blouse. Bright, comfortable and smart enough for daily wear, but to her way of thinking it did not invite such scrutiny as the visitor was subjecting it to.
“Oh, I’m sure you can, Latellian.” He drew the name out, savouring each syllable. “But perhaps later, eh?” He winked. “Business first! Is your Master in?”
He stepped forward as he spoke, apparently expecting Latellian to move out of the way, no doubt with an accompaniment of blushes and giggles. Latellian, however, stood her ground. If she’d been as young as she appeared, she might have reacted differently. Or perhaps not. Even back in the day, she’d always had a certain natural antipathy towards bad manners. As things were, a lifetime of experience had considerably reduced her tolerance.
The effect was that the visitor found himself having to stop his progress rather abruptly on the doorstep. He was tall enough to be looking down on her and he did so with the beginnings of a frown.
“I regret that the Magician Carward is not currently available,” she said calmly. “However, if you leave your name I will inform him that you called.”
The frown became more evident. “Stand aside, girl. I will await Carward within.”
“I regret that that is not possible, sir.” Latellian stood firm and met his frown full on.
The stranger stepped back and gave her a long look. “Well, you’re a feisty one, aren’t you? Don’t you know who I am?”
“You have not yet shared that information with me, sir.”
He pursed his lips. “Careful, now – Latellian, did you say you were? Well, Latellian, you should watch that tone of voice. My name is Erdwin. The Magician Erdwin, that is! And, under the terms of the Magician’s Protocols, I am to be afforded hospitality and welcome at this or any other Magician’s dwelling! So stand aside – or must I move you?”
Latellian like threats even less than she liked arrogance, but non-the-less, Erdwin’s words gave her pause. She had heard of the Magician’s Protocol, that ancient set of rules that governed relationships between Practitioners of Magic. However, she was unsure of the fine detail of all the clauses – it had not yet formed part of her studies – and she could not say for sure that Erdwin was wrong.
Still, she did not feel inclined to give in too easily, and there was an obvious question to be raised.
“And how may I know that you are a Magician?” she asked. “It’s easy enough to make the claim, but...”
She was not given time to finish her argument. Erdwin flicked his finger impatiently at her, and she was flung violently back through the door, landing on the hard tiles of the hallway and skidding further backwards until her progress was arrested by collision with the wall panelling.
“Ooff!” she gasped, breath knocked out of her.
“I think that that should prove my credentials satisfactorily,” said Erdwin as he walked through the door. “Or do you require more proof?” He was smiling more broadly now: good looking as he was, Latellian saw nothing at all attractive in the smile.
“You have not… been given permission… to enter,” she gasped. And focused her thoughts.
Will and Desire had never been more perfectly aligned in her. A blast of air swept into the hallway and slammed into Erdwin as he took another step forward, catching him in mid-stride and off-balance. His cloak billowed out behind him as he staggered backwards.
Latellian’s intent had been to blow him right out of the doors and then to slam them shut, after which Carward’s Wards would prevent any further access, Magician or not. They could debate the finer points of the Magicians Protocol afterwards, and Erdwin could point out the bit that gave him the right to force entry by knocking her onto her bottom. Unfortunately, her aim was off, or perhaps Erdwin managed to deflect it. Instead of being tossed out and down the steps, he crashed into the door frame – with some force, by the sound of it.
He let out a roar of pain and fury, then tried to stand up, but Latellian concentrated her desire, pushing him back and trying to roll him round the edge of the door.
He clung on though, gripping at the woodwork with one hand and raising the other in front of him, edge on to Latellian and the gale she had created. She saw him frown in concentration – then the wind split apart, dividing round his hand and passing him by.
Instead of opposing her directly, he had re-directed her attack, and was now standing in a calm spot he had created in the middle of her storm.
Focusing her thoughts, she tried to bend the wind back in towards him, but he resisted her, and she felt the pressure of it in her head, like something pushing at her mind. He reached inside his clothing with his free hand, and flung something at the floor in front of her.
There was a light so brilliant that it stabbed through her eyes and into her brain. A noise so loud that it couldn’t be described, but rather was felt in her ears. And a smell so foul that her entire body heaved to force it back out of her nostrils.
For a few moments she was aware of nothing but light and sound and nausea. When her vision and hearing began to return, and her stomach unclenched, she became aware that she was laying on her back, streaked with her own vomit, and that Erdwin was wrapping something round her arms and upper body.
“Get off me!” she tried to say, but her throat felt raw, and she could only manage a croak.
“Ah, back with us, are you?” Erdwin stood up, looked down on her. “Well, you’re a surprise aren’t you? I’d heard that Carward had taken a female apprentice, but it was said to be some dried-up old crone, so I took you for a servant girl. I suppose Carward must have put a glamour on you… I dare say even he prefers something nice to look at!”
Latellian didn’t bother trying to speak, but simply glared at him. Whilst trying to summon some magic to renew her attack. ‘Fire!’ she thought. But her head was aching, it was hard to focus, and no fire appeared.
“Surprisingly strong, as well, for a new apprentice. I suppose that’s why he chose you. But he hasn’t taught you much yet, has he? I suppose he’s still waffling on about the philosophical foundations of magic – instead of teaching something useful, like the principles of magical combat!”
“What… did you do?” she managed to croak out.
“Oh, that?” He laughed. “I call them ‘Sprites’. You know, nasty little magical things.” He produced a small ball, and showed it to her. It appeared to be no more than roughly shaped and fired clay. “There are techniques by which magic can be contained in material objects. ‘Impressing’ it’s often called. As with this… when the ball is broken the power is released. Something else Carward hasn’t taught you!”
“He’s taught me enough,” she muttered, and once again tried to summon fire. And once again, failed. It wasn’t just her headache impeding her focus, she realised. Somehow, the magic just wasn’t there. In growing alarm, she reached out for it, in the way which had become instinctive – and found nothing. It was like trying to twitch her ears. Her father had always been able to to it, but she just couldn’t find the muscles that would make it happen. Now she couldn’t find the magic.
Erdwin was watching her in amusement. “He didn’t teach you about magical barriers, though! That rope I bound you with – in the fibres I have Impressed a shield that will block any flow of magical force. While it is around you, you cannot summon power.”
Latellian glared at him, and strained at her bindings, but they were equally effective against her muscles.
“I doubt that the Magician’s Protocols permit this!” she snapped at him. “Release me, or answer to Carward!”
“Release you? No I think I prefer you like this. And as for Carward – he’s well on his way to that Royal Wedding – which will be a long business, I’m afraid, lots of ceremony and protocol to observe. And Carward won’t want to offend anyone by leaving early!”
Erdwin knelt beside her and put his face uncomfortably close to hers. “I’ve waited a long time for this opportunity, and no one is going to stand in my way now! Not Carward, certainly not you. So for your own good, I suggest you cooperate. Now, tell me, where is the access to the Vortex?”
“The what?” asked Latellian, genuinely puzzled.
“The Vortex,” he said again, with annoyance. “The Source!”
“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”
He gave her a long look. “Can this be? Has Carward not even explained to you the most basic principles of all magic?”
“Well, of course he has. Magic is power directed by desire...” she began, but he cut her off with an impatient gesture.
“Not that philosophical mumble-jumble! I’m talking about the true nature of magic!” He rolled his eyes as she continued to look at him blankly. “Do you not even understand where magic comes from?”
“Carward always says that it is necessary to understand myself first before I try and understand magic,” she said. “Because such understanding is essential to control, and without control...”
“OH, ENOUGH!” Erdwin shouted. “It seems I must rectify the failures of Carward’s teaching. Pay attention girl, and I shall tell you things that Carward will not share with you for years, if ever!”
She tried to reply, but he leaned forward and put his hand over her mouth. “No, just listen… you must first understand that Magic is not natural to this world. It is an incursion, a breaking through from other places. It is believed – speculated, rather – that there are other worlds, indeed whole other Universes, in which the natural laws are very different from ours. And in one of these, magic resides.”
Latellian raised an eyebrow – the only form of communication left to her. Erdwin nodded in answer.
“Oh, yes, it’s true. Though such information is not widely disseminated. Magician’s guard their secrets. Sometimes even from each other. But the truth is that the magic in our world is just leakage. There are certain places where magic has found its way through. Like water flowing downhill, perhaps. Sinking into all the little cracks and pouring into this reality. With devastating consequences… imagine raw magic, running loose and uncontrolled! But fortunately, some people found that they had the ability to control this power.”
“Magicians!” Latellian tried to say. Erdwin removed his hand.
“Magicians, was that? Well, quite.” He sat back and regarded her. “There are five sources of magic in the world – five known, at any rate. Five places where magic has broken through. And each of those places is a Source of Magic. A place of power. Or it’s also called a Vortex, a point of raw magic, confined but essentially uncontrolled.” He gestured round him. “This place – Carward’s house – is the location of the most powerful of these Vortex’s. Which is why Carward is the most powerful of magicians – as long as he remains in touch with it. Doesn’t go away often, does he?”
“Only when he has to,” she admitted.
“Of course not. There is some leakage, of course, some raw magic that escapes into the world. Ambient magic, to use the technical term. It can cause strange events and unusual occurrences. All those stories you hear of two-headed sheep being born, or water flowing uphill for a day – that’s Ambient magic at work. Magicians can use that, and many of them spend their lives searching out these snippets of power to use or neutralise them. But real power is only found in a Vortex. And that is why I need access to this one.”
Latellian looked him, pondering his words. “That is why the Magician’s Protocol’s allow any person of magic to enter a Magician’s house. So that the power is shared. Yet you deliberately came at a time when you knew Carward was absent. You forced your way in… so whatever your business here, it is something that Carward would not allow.”
“Yes, very clever!” he snapped at her. “Well, it may be true that I’m not always welcomed by other Magicians. My research into Impressed Magic is perhaps a little controversial.”
“Controversial? Ah! Of course! Impressed Magic could be used by anyone, could it not? Not just magicians! With Impressed Magic you could equip an Army, make it invincible!”
“So they argue,” he grumbled. “Short sighted as they are. As if that is the only possible use of it! But I have studied this longer and deeper than any other Magician ever, and only I know the true possibilities of Impressed Magic!” He leaned forward, gripped her shoulders and stared directly into her eyes, face glowing with excitement. “I know how to Impress Magic into myself! Yes, into my own body! No one has ever even thought of that before – but I know how to do it! Think of the consequences! Magic will no longer be something outside of myself which I must find and use! It will became part of me! I will become something never seen before in this world – a creature of magic, a being of power!”
His intensity was frightening. Fanatical. But Latellian forced herself to think past that.
“You need a Source. You need the power to Impress with.”
“Indeed. I have been kept from completing my work because the Magician’s Council has banned me from access to any Vortex. But now I have the opportunity to fulfil my destiny – and once I have succeeded, no one will ever again be able to keep from power. I will be power!”
He stood up, and dragged her up with him. “Enough lecturing! Your education is complete. Now you know what I seek, direct me to it. Where does Carward hide the entrance? Where is the way in?”
She held his gaze. “You cannot make me talk. This rope may keep me from accessing magic, but it also protects me from your magic, does it not? Or you would have used your power to force me to speak.”
He glared at her. “Yes, very clever of you. But there are other ways of forcing an answer.” Without warning, he struck her on the cheek. Not a slap, he used his fist. Unable to save herself, Latellian went sprawling, her head meeting the stone tiles hard and painfully.
Erdwin leant over her, dragged her upright. “Tell me, or must I beat you further?”
Her head was so full of pain that she could barely think. “There isn’t a Vortex,” she muttered.
He hit her again. This time a punch in the stomach, which left her doubled up on the floor gasping for breath.
“That’s a stupid lie,” he said calmly. “Of course there’s a Vortex. And you’ve seen it, haven’t you? How else would Carward test his apprentice for magical power – save to expose her to the Vortex? Only those with the ability to control Magic can survive such a test. It is how all apprentices are tested.”
She felt dizzy and nauseous, in addition to the pain in her head. “No. No Vortex,” she gasped. “There was… a room. Room of magic.”
“Room of magic? What are you talking about?”
“Round room. Full of drawers. Infinite drawers. Drawers full of magic.” She wondered if she was telling him too much. But she had to convince him that there was no Vortex.
“A room of magic?” He kicked her, though without much force. Just a warning. “How do you get to it? Where’s the door?”
“No door. Magical Portal. Only Carward can open it. Wards.”
He snorted. “You cannot have a magical portal into a Vortex. Open that and you would have a flood of raw magic!” He lifted his foot and despite herself, Latellian cringed. But then he lowered his foot. “Unless… could it be? Could Carward have tamed the Vortex? Given it form and order?”
He sounded impressed in spite of himself. Latellian, despite internal pain and external bonds, managed to get herself up her knees.
“That would explain why I’ve never seen a Vortex,” she muttered.
“If you’re lying to me, girl...” He glared down at her.
Latellian glared back, despite the wide assortment of aches and pains she had accumulated. She’d had aches and pains before. Peasants had to expect some of those in life, but they had to get up and work regardless.
“I’m not lying. The source of magic here is the room I told you of. And it cannot be accessed by any save Carward.”
Erdwin looked as though he wanted to hit her again just out of frustration. “That can’t be. There has to be access. If not physical, then magical.”
“It’s as I say, only Carward can open the Portal. It’s Warded.”
“Well of course it’s Warded!” He glared at her, then his expression cooled to something speculative. “But the question is, what sort of Ward? Something fatal, perhaps? But that’s not really Carward’s style, is it? For all his power, he’s a weakling. He’d prefer something non-lethal. Clever, but not too dangerous...” He scratched his chin thoughtfully. “The simplest way would be to just twist a portal round… you think you’ve opened it, step through and come out in exactly the same place… let me see now...”
He raised his hands. His face took on an expression of concentration. He moved his hands through the air, making the shape of a doorway. When he lowered them, there was indeed a doorway – an outline of shimmering light.
“I need to test this out. But… suppose Carward isn’t as nice as I thought? He could have arranged it to twist into some other place. The bottom of a well, the heart of a furnace, something like that.”
“I suppose that’s what you would have done,” Latellian muttered.
“What? Oh, yes. Well, I suppose so. We’d better find out, hadn’t we.”
He dragged her upright, and smiled brightly at her. “You did offer to help me, didn’t you? Now you will!”
And so saying he thrust her into the portal.
Like Erdwin, Latellian believed that Carward was an essential nice person, but she did have a brief moment to wonder how nice he might be, before she found herself staggering back out of the portal into Erdwin’s arms.
“Well, this is cosy,” he said giving her a hug of quite unwarranted intimacy. “And it seems that Carward is as entirely predictable as I thought. A simple reverse-twist on any Portal that attempts to reach the Vortex. Or, by what you say, this Room of Magic. But now I know what it is, it’s just as simple to counter it. Just give me a moment.”
He dropped her unceremoniously back on the floor – which was not entirely unwelcome as Latellian had not enjoyed his hug in the slightest. It was, however, undignified to be sprawling on the floor again, and she had banged her elbow painfully on the tiles.
Erdwin ignored her. He dismissed the first portal with a wave of his hand, and, taking a deep breath, began to slowly draw another doorway in the air. He took much longer over this one, and - despite the fact that it was supposed to be simple – he had to concentrate so hard that he began to sweat.
So hard, in fact, that he began to lose control of something else. The glamour that had made him look so stunningly handsome slipped a little. To Latellian it appeared as though the sweat was wiping away some of the perfect features, drawing his face down and carving wrinkles in his skin. His eyes had lost their intense colour and his entire body seemed to be shorter. A little stooped, even.
She was not at all surprised. Her brief acquaintance with Erdwin had suggested that he was just the sort of person to hide behind a glamour.
Finally, it was complete. Once more, the outline of a doorway hung glowing in the air. But this time, when Latellian looked into it, she could discern a passageway beyond. It was insubstantial, she could see the hallway through it, but it was there.
“In you go, then,” said Erdwin, still being cautious. He pulled her up and pushed her forwards.
Usually when entering a Portal, Latellian would feel the tingle of magical power all over her skin. This time, nothing – presumably because of the Impressed spell in the rope. Her previous experience of Erdwin’s Portal had been too brief to notice, but now she was in the magical passageway it was obvious – she felt no indication of power at all.
Yet Magic was clearly present, and still acting on her: even if it’s power could not touch her directly, the Portal had transferred her into what appeared to be a magical construct. The passageway that lay ahead was clearly nothing natural. Walls, floor and ceiling were completely smooth, white and glowing faintly. In front of her they seemed to twist away in a quite ridiculous manner, somehow appearing to be going right and left, up and down at the same time. Her head, already aching from Erdwin’s beating, couldn’t deal with what her eyes saw. She hastily looked down at her feet and swallowed hard against the nausea.
“Walk!” Erdwin’s voice commanded her from behind.
She walked, watching her feet moving across the featureless surface. There was no indication of movement but when she glanced back she saw – behind Erdwin’s grim and now much more unpleasant face – no sign of the Portal they had come through.
They walked for a while. Or so it seemed. The passageway did not change.
Time passed. Or so she presumed. It was hard to tell. When she risked glancing up, the way ahead still looked the same. So did the way behind. She staggered on.
Behind her, Erdwin was muttering under his breath.
“How long should this be taking us?” she asked.
He grabbed her from behind and jerked her to a stop. “”Not this long, obviously! Another little trap from Carward – the passage is infinite.”
She thought about it as best she could through the pain in her head. “Then you’d have to open another Portal to get out again?”
“I’ve been trying to!” he snapped at her. “But there’s another Ward in place. It prevents me from using magic whilst within the passageway.”
“Carward wasn’t as predictable as you thought.”
He slapped her, back handed and she fell against the wall. It didn’t seem as hard as the hallway floor, but the pain in her head was renewed nonetheless.
“You think that old fool can out-think me?” he snarled. No trace of charm now, he was all anger and ugliness. “I know things about magic that he never even dared to explore! This little trick is just a delay, that’s all! I’ve already worked out how to circumvent his Ward.”
He searched his pockets and pulled out another clay ball.
“A sprite?” Latellian asked groggily, and tried to brace herself against another burst of light, noise and nausea.
“No, not this one. I use clay balls because clay is a particularly good material for Impressing magic. This one creates a Portal to – well, never mind where to. The point is, whilst I’m prevented from using magic, the Ward cannot effect the Impressed magic in the clay – so...”
He flung the little ball ahead of them. When it hit the floor, the clay shattered and at once a Portal appeared.
“See?” Erdwin was all smiles and good humour again, but Latellian did not trust that one bit. And would not have done even if his glamour had still been in place. “Once the Portal is created it should be a simple matter to redirect its focus...”
He stepped past her, walked up to the Portal and gripped its glowing edges. After a few moments of silent concentration he stepped back and beckoned to her.
“Come along then. Ladies first.”
Latellian looked back down the passage, and contemplated running. Except that there was nowhere to run to, and Erdwin was entirely capable of catching her. Or using the Portal alone and leaving her here. Neither prospect filled her with enthusiasm.
But looking into the Portal she wondered if perhaps that wasn’t the worst of her very poor options. She could see nothing on the other side: the frame was filled with utter blackness, like the very darkest night that had ever been.
Erdwin noticed her hesitation, and sniggered. “Nothing to worry about, just a side-effect of the Ward. Probably. In you go.”
She noted the ‘probably’, and the fact that Erdwin still didn’t want to be first through the Portal. But having little choice, and not wanting to be pushed again, Latellian stepped forward, and with enormous relief found herself standing in the Room of Magic.
It was as she had seen it before – a perfectly circular room about twenty paces across, entirely lined with little wooden drawers. Just above head height an ornate iron walkway, accessed by an iron stairway in similar style, ran round the circumference. A similar distance above that was another walkway, and another beyond that… and so on, rising up to apparent infinity.
She remembered, just in time, not to look too far up. Her head was already aching enough.
Erdwin appeared beside her, apparently coming from nowhere. The Portal wasn’t visible from this side, she noticed. Which meant that there was no way out.
Despite himself, Erdwin was obviously impressed. He turned round slowly, mouth open, tracking the iron walkways and rows of brass-knobbed drawers up and up and up…
For a moment, Latillian considered delivering a swift kick to his nether regions while he was lost in contemplation of the infinite. This would not only serve to hinder his plans, but would also give her considerable satisfaction. If her arms had not been bound she would not have hesitated, but as it was any offensive action might prove difficult to sustain, especially since Erdwin had magic and she did not.
But in any case, his distraction lasted only a moment. Then he returned his gaze to her.
“Don’t attempt it, girl,” he said softly. “Now I have the access I need, I no longer need you. I have no interest in what happens to you now. But attempt to interfere and I will destroy you without hesitation.”
Latellian had no doubt at all that he would do what he said. She stepped back from him, making it clear that she was avoiding confrontation. Though, paradoxically, the urge to give him a good kicking became even stronger.
“Very wise.” Erdwin nodded. Then turned away to examine the Room once more. “Very well,” he said after a few moments. “I admit it. Carward has done something remarkable here.” He gestured around him. “For centuries magicians have sought to control the Sources of Magic, but could never do more than limit and direct the flow of power. But it seems that your Master has found a way.” He glanced around once more. “And I see how he has done it. The room is continually being created – extended into the infinite above us – as power flows through. He has not affected the flow but instead used its own power to generate a form, a template perhaps, which still allows access to the power but keeps it manageable.”
He shook his head in wonderment. “Well, I underestimated Carward. This is an amazing achievement. Almost as amazing as my own will be when I harness the power and Impress it into myself.”
He smiled. “Should you survive this, do convey to your Master my congratulations. And my apologies, for in order to complete my great work, it may be necessary to destroy his. Well, such is life.”
So saying he turned away from her. Raised his hands dramatically, then pointed at a drawer.
Which sprang open. Out hopped a small brown frog.
As anti-climatic moments go, it would have been hard to better.
Erdwin goggled at the frog, who made a short jump in his direction, croaked rather loudly, and goggled back at him.
“What is this?” he asked. His face (now entirely free of its false glamour) seemed caught between bafflement and fury.
“A frog,” explained Latellian helpfully.
The frog took off again, but abruptly disappeared in mid jump.
“WHAT IS THIS?” Erdwin screamed at Latellian, fury now getting slightly ahead of bafflement.
“You mean what was it?” He took a step towards her and she continued a little hastily. “Frog – magical frog, that is. Teleportation frog, I would guess. I assume you’re supposed to hold it and think of where you want to go, then it takes you. But you have to be quick, it seems, or it just goes off about its own business.”
Erdwin took a deep breath. “You’re telling me that Carward has Impressed a frog with magic?” he said in icy tones.
“No. Not at all. The frog was created by the Room. By the magic itself, I suppose. I don’t know why. But it’s not Impressed magic. It’s Innate magic.”
“I don’t need magical frogs, Innate or Impressed!” he snapped. “I need the power – the raw power of the Vortex.” He turned away, flung out an arm and indicated another drawer.
Nothing happened.
“You have to close the other drawer first,” Latellian explained. “Only one drawer can be opened at a time. So Carward informed me.”
Erdwin flung back his head and screamed in frustration. “I – NEED – THE POWER!” he bellowed.
And stretched out his hands.
And gripped. And pulled.
In spite of the Impressed rope, Latellian fancied she could feel the immense surge of power as Erdwin exerted all his strength against the Room. And, driven by his fury, he began to prevail.
“Magic is power driven by desire.” Latellian whispered to herself.
Erdwin’s desire was entirely focused on opening the drawers and drawing power from the Room. That desire was huge and the power available was considerable. Just the Ambient power present from minor leakages was far greater than could be found anywhere in the outside world. And Erdwin was turning that power against the Room itself.
Drawers began to vibrate. A few at first, then a few more – then whole rows, the whole lower floor, an immense rattling and thrumming that grew into a roar as the vibration crept upwards towards infinity.
A draw burst open. No – it didn’t just open, it disintegrated, and whatever magical artefact or creature might have been in it was uncreated, it’s essence transformed into a bolt of pure energy that hurtled across the room and entered Erdwin’s body.
He screamed. Not in pain, but in triumph.
“YES!”
Abruptly an entire row of drawers burst apart. Then another, and another… Latellian shrieked and flattened herself on the floor as power surged and flowed and poured into Erdwin.
None of the magic came near her – the Impressed rope now a shield instead of a shackle - but nevertheless it was terrifying. The air grew hazy with power as drawers further up the infinite column ripped apart and added their contents to the flow of magic that Erdwin continued to draw into himself.
And as he drew on the magic – the magic changed him.
He was expanding, growing. Taller, and wider, his body stretched and bloated and stretched further… he filled the room, apart from the small place where Latellian cowered, and still he continued to grow. Upwards, up into infinity, further and further and faster and faster.
His form was insubstantial now. Latellian could see right through him. And all that there was was power, a twisting column of raw magic.
A vortex was forming. And in spite of the protection afforded by the rope, she could feel it pulling at her, dragging her off the floor, up into what had been Erdwin’s body. She had no idea what it would do to her, but it didn’t seem likely to end well.
Then, out of the chaos, a hand grasped her.
It gripped her arm, firm and strong, and pulled her down, until there was an arm around her and she was looking at Carward’s face. He was shouting something. She couldn’t hear what, the roar of wild magic, free and pure and unchecked magic, filled her ears.
But he wasn’t shouting at her. She saw his gaze, looking round, looking up, his staff raised in one hand as he held her in the other arm.
And the magic heard him. The magic responded to his will, to his desire. It began to slow, and to calm.
Latellian could see the walls again. The drawers that had been ripped open and torn apart were restored, and power was flowing back into them. One by one they slid shut, until the room was as it had been. Carward lowered his staff.
“Are you alright?” he asked, then frowned as he looked more carefully at her. “Clearly not.” He touched her battered face lightly, then frowned. “Curious. Have you become immune to magic?”
“It’s the rope,” she explained. “It’s Impressed.”
“Impressed magic?” Carward raised a bushy eyebrow. “Ah, then I assume Erdwin was behind this!” He set about untying the rope. As it came free she felt the magic return to her, a relief so powerful that she felt dizzy.
“You know Erdwin then?”
“The whole magical community knows him, or of him.” Carward set about healing her injuries. “He was an apprentice like you once, but he was impatient. He wanted the power of magic without the discipline that is needed to control it. He persisted in studying areas that were forbidden him – like Impressed Magic – and so became outcast from the Community of Magic. Always knew he would come to a bad end. Sorry that it involved you, though. If I’d known he planned to come here...” he shook his head sadly.
“I’m just glad you got back in time,” Latellian said.
“No coincidence, that. The Room is alarmed: I knew at once when someone tried to gain access, and returned as fast as I could. Not fast enough though. I must reconsider my Wards, I thought they would be more effective.”
“He was clever. A talented magician, and quite strong in magic. He really thought he could Impress magic into himself.”
“Had he spent more time on his studies he would have known that others have tried that before, with much the same result.”
“I suppose that once he’d released the Vortex, he couldn’t turn it off again,” Latellian speculated. “The power was too much to Impress it all. So it destroyed him.”
“The problem is more basic than that. What is the first lesson of Magic?”
“Well – that Magic is the application of Desire to Power.”
“Precisely. And Erdwin knew that. But he did not realise the danger that comes from the meeting of uncontrolled desire with unlimited power. In fact, it was not the power that destroyed him – it was his own desire.”
Latellian nodded. “I see. He never learned the second lesson.”
"No." Carward shook his head sadly. "In fact, I don't think he even understood the first."
"The Magician bids you good morning, and requests that you join him for breakfast in half an hour," said the Butler from outside. Latellian was relieved that he remained outside. Quite apart from matters of propriety, the Butler was seven feet tall, green, and endowed with an impressive array of talons, fangs and tusks. Latellian had no fear of him - he had never been anything but polite to her - but it was not a sight that she wished to start her day with.
"Yes, thank you." Latellian rose from her bed, reflecting that it had been the best nights sleep she'd had in years. Probably because she had recently shed most of those years and currently resided in the physical form of a twenty year old, whilst still retaining the memories accumulated over seventy years.
It was somewhat confusing, but the positive aspects could not be denied. Such as the ability to sleep soundly for hours and wake up without the various aches and pains that she had become accustomed to.
She also had her appetite back, it seemed. The thought of breakfast aroused an enthusiasm that she had quite forgotten in recent years. Consequently she was up, washed, dressed and on her way downstairs well before the half hour was up. Thinking along the way that she needed to brighten up her wardrobe – her drab old clothing did not go with her new body.
She was not yet familiar with the layout of the Magician's house, but had no trouble finding the dining room: it was the first door she tried. It did occur to her that, this being a Magician's house, any door would have proved to be the right door – but the important thing at the moment was not magic, but food. Her stomach was rumbling.
The Magician Carward took his breakfast in a light, airy room of medium size, with wide windows offering a pleasant view of waves breaking gently on a silvery beach. This was somewhat confusing, since as far as Latellian was aware the nearest such body of water was at least ten days hard travelling away. But 'Magician's house, Magician's rules'.
Of more immediate interest was the long table that occupied most of the room, and the food set upon it. It was an impressive display, both in quantity and variety.
There were several platters of various meats, both hot and cold. There were eggs - fried, boiled, poached and scrambled. There were mushrooms. There were three kinds of bread that she could see, plus the same three, toasted. There was a large tray bearing a mound of small pies, and a number of tureens whose contents were hidden by lids, but from the pleasant way steam leaked from around the edges Latellian thought them likely to be porridges or hot cereals.
There was also an an abundance of fruit, a pot of cream, another of honey, and a selection of jams, marmalades, and savoury spreads - along with a number of jugs and pitchers that she assumed held beverages.
In short, it was not merely a breakfast, it was a week of breakfasts for a large family.
Presiding over this feast, the Magician Carward sat at one end of the table. He was wearing a loose white shirt of plain linen rather than the dark hooded robe that he used to impress visitors. However, the long grey hair and beard, plus bristly eyebrows over intense dark eyes, and a face that Latellian thought of as 'lived in', were quite impressive enough by themselves.
Especially the eyebrows.
"Ah, Latellian, a good day to you," Carward said in greeting. "Please take a seat and have some breakfast."
"Thank you, and a good day to you," Latellian replied.
Carward’s invitation seemed genuine, but there was a problem. The only other chair was at the far end of the long table, opposite Carward's own. And the food was all laid out at his end. At first sight, therefore, 'taking a seat' and 'having some breakfast' seemed to be mutually exclusive instructions.
Latellian suspected a test of some kind, and sighed inwardly. She had hoped to at least be allowed to eat before beginning to learn magic.
She considered the chair. It was quite large, of very solid wooden construction, decorated with carvings of foliage and small birds. It looked heavy, which Latellian confirmed with an experimental tug.
"Something wrong with the chair?" asked Carward, with unconvincing innocence.
"Only that it's too far from the food!", Latellian said. Perhaps a little sharply, but she was feeling very hungry by now.
"Then bring it closer."
"The food or the chair?"
"As you please, but moving the food would be easier."
Latellian walked down the table towards the food end, and Carward rolled his eyes.
"No, no, girl! You're here to learn magic, not table waiting! Sit in the chair and use magic to bring the food to you."
"How am I to do that? You haven't taught me any magic yet." Despite her objection, Latellian returned to the chair and sat down.
"Then we had best get to it, had we not? Tell me, Latellian, what is magic?"
She sighed inwardly, and put aside thoughts of food - as best she could, given the sight and smell of what lay before her. "Well, it's a power that some people have."
Carward shook his head. "No one 'has' magic. Some have the gift, the ability to use magic, but magic itself is a wild creature: no one possesses it. Take note of that! And try again. Think how magic is commonly defined."
Latellian thought. Her schooling had been basic, and a long while ago, but a memory stirred itself. "Magic is... 'The application of Will to Power'. Or so the Brother told us once, when he came by the village to teach us letters and numbers. He was not much in favour of it, as I recall."
"Ah, yes. One of the Dominatus Order of Friars, I presume. They do good work, but can be narrow in their views. Still, you must work with what you have."
He looked expectantly at Latellian, who stared back at him.
He sighed. "Use the knowledge of magic you have."
She thought it over. Magic was a wild thing, but perhaps a strong enough will could control it? She gazed intently at a platter of bacon, fried crispy, and willed it to move in her direction.
It remained firmly in place.
Frowning, she concentrated harder. She imagined the platter sliding across the table top, she commanded it to move, even whispering the words under her breath.
The bacon refused to budge.
Latellian began to feel a headache developing. Perhaps she was trying to move too much? She narrowed her focus to a single rasher, and tried to grasp it with her mind.
Had the bacon stirred at all? Perhaps. Or perhaps it was her imagination.
Carward, in the meantime, applied butter and marmalade to a slice of toast - the conventional way, using a knife - and chewed thoughtfully. "Of course, the Friars are not themselves magicians. They may not have fully understood magic."
"So was he inaccurate? In what way?"
Carward tugged thoughtfully at his beard. "I would not say he was entirely wrong. Certainly will comes into it, but not in so direct a manner."
"That does not help me get my breakfast!" Hunger added a sharp note to Latellian's voice.
"Very well then. Let me rephrase the good Brother's statement, thus: Magic is the Application of Desire to Power."
Latellian waited, but the Magician did not elucidate further. Instead, he took a sausage from one of the platters and commenced eating it.
She did her best to ignore the Magician's actions whilst she pondered his words. What was the difference between desire and will? After all, people's will was very often governed by their desires.
But not always. There were famous ascetics who made a big thing about overcoming their desires by their willpower. And indeed everyone had at some point in their lives had to put aside their desires in order to do something more important. She could recall a good many instances in her own life where she had done that. The desire for sleep, or food, or simply time for herself had so often had to be ignored in order to meet the needs - the desires! - of others. Especially her children.
In fact, the measure of maturity was often the ability to do that, and to recognize when personal desires could be met and when they must be overridden to achieve another objective. Only very young children were completely driven by desire.
Yet, it seemed that now Carward was saying that will must be overruled by desire in order to use magic.
Of course, in this case, her will and her desire were perfectly in tune. She wanted food! But perhaps she needed to try a slightly different approach?
Rather than stare at the bacon, she closed her eyes and focussed on her hunger.
She felt it gnawing at her, the emptiness of her stomach, the tantalizing smells of the vast breakfast, just out of her reach. She tasted saliva in her mouth and imagined the warm crispy bacon there instead. She wanted that bacon, wanted it so badly. Abandoning any attempt at self control she let her hunger loose.
There was a shift, a change, a movement...
Something hit her in the face. Hard enough to slam her head against the high wooden back of the chair.
She opened her eyes and discovered that she was covered in warm crispy bacon. It was in her hair and over her shoulders, it stuck to her clothes and filled her lap. The platter itself remained in its place, but the entire contents had dumped itself on her.
Carward was smiling broadly. "My, you were hungry! A good thing you didn't choose the porridge."
Latellian took a deep breath and composed herself. She picked a rasher out of her lap and took a bite. It tasted every bit as good as it looked and smelled.
"If I had chosen the porridge I might have been burnt," she said. "Would that have been a part of your training program?"
"Well, in all honestly I did not anticipate such a successful first attempt. I myself only managed a single sausage, and it rolled across the table, rather than flew." He met her gaze. "You have great power, Latellian."
"And great hunger," she answered dryly, and ate another piece of bacon. She would have liked something to drink with it, but decided not to take the risk. "And was that the sole purpose of all this?"
"It is something of a tradition amongst magicians. No better way has yet been devised of teaching new apprentices the difference, in magical terms, between will and desire." He beamed at her. "Congratulations! You have learnt the first and most fundamental lesson of magic."
"And what's the second lesson? Lunch?"
Carward shook his head. "You will spend the rest of your apprenticeship learning the next lesson. Indeed, some never do."
"So what is it?"
"It is to learn how to control Desire with Will." He beamed at her. "You still have some bacon in your hair."
In the next few days, a routine was established which seemed likely to persist for some time. Latellian normally breakfasted with Carward, though it was a much more conventional meal than on the first occasion. They discussed various matters, both magical and otherwise, and the Magician set out plans for that day's studies.
After breakfast, Latellian usually spent time in the library, researching various subjects as instructed by Carward. This she found hard to do, at first. Though the Friars had ensured that she had her letters, she had had little time for reading in her previous life, and sitting with a book for hours at a time made her feel mildly guilty. Moreover, the new young body that magic had gifted her was fit, buzzing with energy and ready to be active.
However, as she got deeper into her studies, she began to learn the thrill of intellectual stimulation. Chasing down the fine divisions between will and desire became unexpectedly absorbing: at times, when she stumbled across some illuminating insight or profound observation, it was actually exciting. The previous Latellian, practical and no nonsense, would have scoffed at the idea. The new version found her mind being opened to whole new worlds of thought whose existence she had never dreamed of.
Lunch was usually a solitary affair, often taken in the kitchen, and increasingly with a book to hand in order to extend her reading. The books and passages prescribed by Carward threw up many more interesting alleyways of study that she wanted to explore.
The afternoons were occupied with domestic duties - washing, cleaning, assisting the Butler or the Gardener as required. Hard work had never been something Latellian feared, and indeed she would have welcomed the opportunity for some honest physical labour after the intellectual grind of the morning - except that the Magician required her to do as much of the work as possible by magical means. This could be very frustrating at times: a task as simple as wringing out a mop suddenly required enormous concentration and exhausting mental effort. There was considerable spillage of water, breakage of mop handles and expression of profanity before she mastered the art and was able to move on to actually mopping the floor.
However, she had to admit that the practical experience taught her as much as the theoretical studies. If not more.
The evening meal was once more shared with the Magician, and provided opportunity for reflection and discussion concerning the days lessons, in a relaxed and informal manner. Very often, Carward would illustrate some point by recounting relevant anecdotes. Their discussions were wide-ranging and often ventured into areas Latellian had never considered - had never had cause to consider in her previous life. Art and politics, history (both magical and mundane), geography and economics, the natural world, the sciences - and so on. An evening with Carward was an education in itself.
The days passed, and slipped imperceptibly into weeks, then months. Being a Magician's Apprentice was entirely different from anything she had imagined, or indeed could have imagined. But, in spite of the challenges and frustrations, Latellian found herself more content, more at peace than at any time in her life - long and full though it had been. She was learning magic, she was growing into the person she had always been meant to be. In the same way that the magic had changed her physically, she felt herself changing inwardly: casting off some of the old thinking, the old understanding, the old Latellian and yet becoming more fully Latellian than she had ever been.
The future seemed golden-bright and without blemish. However, she was to learn that the life magical was not without its dangers.
Carward rarely left home, but on occasion his presence was required. Such as, for example, when the King’s son and heir married.
“They don’t really want me,” Carward explained “but I’m the Magician, the only one currently in the Kingdom, so they have to invite me. Can’t risk offending me. And I can’t offend them by not going. So I have to drag my old bones over there in person and endure the hideous boredom of the Court for a few days...”
“Let me get this straight. You don’t want to be there, they don’t want you there, but they still have to invite you and you still have to go?”
He nodded gloomily. “Politics. Seems quite farcical, doesn’t it? But in the long run things work better if everybody observes the proper protocols and formalities. Then they know I haven’t been insulted and therefore probably won’t destroy the Kingdom in a fit of pique. I know they feel reassured and won’t come bothering me to put their minds at rest – or go looking for another magician to challenge me. Which has been known to happen, by the way. Look it up – Forganskire’s ‘War, Politics and Magic’ is a good place to start. Read it while I’m gone.”
“I’m not going with you?” Latellian was disappointed. She quite enjoyed a good wedding, and had never had the opportunity to observer a Royal one.
“Of course not! Half trained magician let loose in society?” He chuckled, and frowned, leaving Latellian wondering if he was joking or serious. “Besides, I’m taking the Butler with me, so someone needs to keep an eye on the place. Not that I’m expecting visitors. Keep up with your studies, and trust me, I won’t be gone a minute longer than I have to be.”
At which point he vanished from her sight, by the simple expedient of stepping out of the front door and closing it behind him. She peered out of the window, and observed him climbing into a perfectly normal carriage, into which the Butler was loading luggage – on completion of which task he himself climbed aboard and the carriage rolled away down the drive.
Perfectly normal apart from the lack of horses, or any other obvious means of propulsion.
She shook her head. Magicians. Even while she was learning to be one, she still struggled to understand them. Or, specifically, to understand Carward since he was the only one she’d actually met in person. (Though her reading suggested that he was not untypical).
“If he’s using magic to travel, why does he need a carriage at all?” she wondered aloud. “Why not just – be – somewhere else?”
Magical forms of transport had not yet featured in her studies. She made a mental note to investigate them – as soon as she’d finished with Forganskire. When Carward got back he would be expecting her to have read it as instructed.
Forganskire proved unexpectedly interesting. He began with an anecdote concerning a Magician who’s failure to observe diplomatic protocols nearly started a war, and went on to discuss various other scenarios. She was fully absorbed when the house chimed.
This was Carward’s version of a door-knocker, and could be heard throughout the house by whosoever had the duty of dealing with visitors. Which would normally be the Butler, but clearly – since she had heard the noise – it had been delegated to her.
The chime sounded again, several times in a row.
“A little patience!” she said to herself. “I’m coming!”
No doubt there were magical means of answering the summons, but she had not yet learned them and there was no time to work them out. So, putting down the Forganskire, she made her way briskly down to the front door.
There were several other chimes along the way, which did not predispose her in favour of the visitor.
Reaching the door at last, she drew the bolt and opened it wide.
“Well, about time!”
The speaker had had his back to the door, so all she saw at first was a long black cloak surmounted by a wave of long black hair. Very shiny and beautifully styled, she noted, remembering at the same time that her own long blonde hair was pulled back into a casual ponytail, which was all she ever bothered to do with it nowadays.
But he turned as he spoke, and she saw his face, and for a brief moment forget everything else.
He was without doubt the most handsome man she had ever laid eyes upon.
The flowing dark locks were a perfect frame for the firmly chiselled jaw, the strong but well-proportioned nose, the ideal balance of cheekbones and temples, the flawless white skin…
… and the eyes! Dark blue. Intense. Deep. Piercing, shining, enigmatic… Latellian ran out of words.
The voice had been strong and melodious, in spite of the irritation it carried. Now, as those amazing eyes fixed on her, the next sentence took on a hint of approval.
“But perhaps it was worth the wait! I must say, Carward seems to have improved his taste in staff! You’re a step up from that ugly monstrosity of a Butler, aren’t you girl? And what’s your name, then?”
This was accompanied by a smile. A twisting of perfect lips to reveal a flash of perfect teeth – the whole thing calculated to send a warm flush through any young maiden’s body.
Except that it was only Latellian’s body that was young. Her much older mind, whilst still appreciating the physical beauty before her, also noted the words and the tone with which he spoke, and was less impressed.
‘Who’s he calling ‘girl’’, she wondered. Even allowing for the fact that she was, to all appearances, little more than a girl, it still sounded arrogant to her, and Latellian didn’t take kindly to arrogance, no matter how nicely packaged.
(Though, talking of packaging, she did notice that his body, under jerkin and trousers of black leather, appeared firm and well proportioned).
However, her mind was not disengaged, even though her body was indeed flushing warmly. The visitor obviously knew about the Butler, which implied that he’d been here before. So perhaps a friend of Carwards and therefore to be given a little leeway.
“I’m Latellian,” she said calmly. “Can I help you, sir?”
He ran his eyes up and down her body in a suggestive way. She had long since discarded her old-peasant-woman garments and currently wore a long skirt in bright orange silk and a white linen short-sleeved blouse. Bright, comfortable and smart enough for daily wear, but to her way of thinking it did not invite such scrutiny as the visitor was subjecting it to.
“Oh, I’m sure you can, Latellian.” He drew the name out, savouring each syllable. “But perhaps later, eh?” He winked. “Business first! Is your Master in?”
He stepped forward as he spoke, apparently expecting Latellian to move out of the way, no doubt with an accompaniment of blushes and giggles. Latellian, however, stood her ground. If she’d been as young as she appeared, she might have reacted differently. Or perhaps not. Even back in the day, she’d always had a certain natural antipathy towards bad manners. As things were, a lifetime of experience had considerably reduced her tolerance.
The effect was that the visitor found himself having to stop his progress rather abruptly on the doorstep. He was tall enough to be looking down on her and he did so with the beginnings of a frown.
“I regret that the Magician Carward is not currently available,” she said calmly. “However, if you leave your name I will inform him that you called.”
The frown became more evident. “Stand aside, girl. I will await Carward within.”
“I regret that that is not possible, sir.” Latellian stood firm and met his frown full on.
The stranger stepped back and gave her a long look. “Well, you’re a feisty one, aren’t you? Don’t you know who I am?”
“You have not yet shared that information with me, sir.”
He pursed his lips. “Careful, now – Latellian, did you say you were? Well, Latellian, you should watch that tone of voice. My name is Erdwin. The Magician Erdwin, that is! And, under the terms of the Magician’s Protocols, I am to be afforded hospitality and welcome at this or any other Magician’s dwelling! So stand aside – or must I move you?”
Latellian like threats even less than she liked arrogance, but non-the-less, Erdwin’s words gave her pause. She had heard of the Magician’s Protocol, that ancient set of rules that governed relationships between Practitioners of Magic. However, she was unsure of the fine detail of all the clauses – it had not yet formed part of her studies – and she could not say for sure that Erdwin was wrong.
Still, she did not feel inclined to give in too easily, and there was an obvious question to be raised.
“And how may I know that you are a Magician?” she asked. “It’s easy enough to make the claim, but...”
She was not given time to finish her argument. Erdwin flicked his finger impatiently at her, and she was flung violently back through the door, landing on the hard tiles of the hallway and skidding further backwards until her progress was arrested by collision with the wall panelling.
“Ooff!” she gasped, breath knocked out of her.
“I think that that should prove my credentials satisfactorily,” said Erdwin as he walked through the door. “Or do you require more proof?” He was smiling more broadly now: good looking as he was, Latellian saw nothing at all attractive in the smile.
“You have not… been given permission… to enter,” she gasped. And focused her thoughts.
Will and Desire had never been more perfectly aligned in her. A blast of air swept into the hallway and slammed into Erdwin as he took another step forward, catching him in mid-stride and off-balance. His cloak billowed out behind him as he staggered backwards.
Latellian’s intent had been to blow him right out of the doors and then to slam them shut, after which Carward’s Wards would prevent any further access, Magician or not. They could debate the finer points of the Magicians Protocol afterwards, and Erdwin could point out the bit that gave him the right to force entry by knocking her onto her bottom. Unfortunately, her aim was off, or perhaps Erdwin managed to deflect it. Instead of being tossed out and down the steps, he crashed into the door frame – with some force, by the sound of it.
He let out a roar of pain and fury, then tried to stand up, but Latellian concentrated her desire, pushing him back and trying to roll him round the edge of the door.
He clung on though, gripping at the woodwork with one hand and raising the other in front of him, edge on to Latellian and the gale she had created. She saw him frown in concentration – then the wind split apart, dividing round his hand and passing him by.
Instead of opposing her directly, he had re-directed her attack, and was now standing in a calm spot he had created in the middle of her storm.
Focusing her thoughts, she tried to bend the wind back in towards him, but he resisted her, and she felt the pressure of it in her head, like something pushing at her mind. He reached inside his clothing with his free hand, and flung something at the floor in front of her.
There was a light so brilliant that it stabbed through her eyes and into her brain. A noise so loud that it couldn’t be described, but rather was felt in her ears. And a smell so foul that her entire body heaved to force it back out of her nostrils.
For a few moments she was aware of nothing but light and sound and nausea. When her vision and hearing began to return, and her stomach unclenched, she became aware that she was laying on her back, streaked with her own vomit, and that Erdwin was wrapping something round her arms and upper body.
“Get off me!” she tried to say, but her throat felt raw, and she could only manage a croak.
“Ah, back with us, are you?” Erdwin stood up, looked down on her. “Well, you’re a surprise aren’t you? I’d heard that Carward had taken a female apprentice, but it was said to be some dried-up old crone, so I took you for a servant girl. I suppose Carward must have put a glamour on you… I dare say even he prefers something nice to look at!”
Latellian didn’t bother trying to speak, but simply glared at him. Whilst trying to summon some magic to renew her attack. ‘Fire!’ she thought. But her head was aching, it was hard to focus, and no fire appeared.
“Surprisingly strong, as well, for a new apprentice. I suppose that’s why he chose you. But he hasn’t taught you much yet, has he? I suppose he’s still waffling on about the philosophical foundations of magic – instead of teaching something useful, like the principles of magical combat!”
“What… did you do?” she managed to croak out.
“Oh, that?” He laughed. “I call them ‘Sprites’. You know, nasty little magical things.” He produced a small ball, and showed it to her. It appeared to be no more than roughly shaped and fired clay. “There are techniques by which magic can be contained in material objects. ‘Impressing’ it’s often called. As with this… when the ball is broken the power is released. Something else Carward hasn’t taught you!”
“He’s taught me enough,” she muttered, and once again tried to summon fire. And once again, failed. It wasn’t just her headache impeding her focus, she realised. Somehow, the magic just wasn’t there. In growing alarm, she reached out for it, in the way which had become instinctive – and found nothing. It was like trying to twitch her ears. Her father had always been able to to it, but she just couldn’t find the muscles that would make it happen. Now she couldn’t find the magic.
Erdwin was watching her in amusement. “He didn’t teach you about magical barriers, though! That rope I bound you with – in the fibres I have Impressed a shield that will block any flow of magical force. While it is around you, you cannot summon power.”
Latellian glared at him, and strained at her bindings, but they were equally effective against her muscles.
“I doubt that the Magician’s Protocols permit this!” she snapped at him. “Release me, or answer to Carward!”
“Release you? No I think I prefer you like this. And as for Carward – he’s well on his way to that Royal Wedding – which will be a long business, I’m afraid, lots of ceremony and protocol to observe. And Carward won’t want to offend anyone by leaving early!”
Erdwin knelt beside her and put his face uncomfortably close to hers. “I’ve waited a long time for this opportunity, and no one is going to stand in my way now! Not Carward, certainly not you. So for your own good, I suggest you cooperate. Now, tell me, where is the access to the Vortex?”
“The what?” asked Latellian, genuinely puzzled.
“The Vortex,” he said again, with annoyance. “The Source!”
“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”
He gave her a long look. “Can this be? Has Carward not even explained to you the most basic principles of all magic?”
“Well, of course he has. Magic is power directed by desire...” she began, but he cut her off with an impatient gesture.
“Not that philosophical mumble-jumble! I’m talking about the true nature of magic!” He rolled his eyes as she continued to look at him blankly. “Do you not even understand where magic comes from?”
“Carward always says that it is necessary to understand myself first before I try and understand magic,” she said. “Because such understanding is essential to control, and without control...”
“OH, ENOUGH!” Erdwin shouted. “It seems I must rectify the failures of Carward’s teaching. Pay attention girl, and I shall tell you things that Carward will not share with you for years, if ever!”
She tried to reply, but he leaned forward and put his hand over her mouth. “No, just listen… you must first understand that Magic is not natural to this world. It is an incursion, a breaking through from other places. It is believed – speculated, rather – that there are other worlds, indeed whole other Universes, in which the natural laws are very different from ours. And in one of these, magic resides.”
Latellian raised an eyebrow – the only form of communication left to her. Erdwin nodded in answer.
“Oh, yes, it’s true. Though such information is not widely disseminated. Magician’s guard their secrets. Sometimes even from each other. But the truth is that the magic in our world is just leakage. There are certain places where magic has found its way through. Like water flowing downhill, perhaps. Sinking into all the little cracks and pouring into this reality. With devastating consequences… imagine raw magic, running loose and uncontrolled! But fortunately, some people found that they had the ability to control this power.”
“Magicians!” Latellian tried to say. Erdwin removed his hand.
“Magicians, was that? Well, quite.” He sat back and regarded her. “There are five sources of magic in the world – five known, at any rate. Five places where magic has broken through. And each of those places is a Source of Magic. A place of power. Or it’s also called a Vortex, a point of raw magic, confined but essentially uncontrolled.” He gestured round him. “This place – Carward’s house – is the location of the most powerful of these Vortex’s. Which is why Carward is the most powerful of magicians – as long as he remains in touch with it. Doesn’t go away often, does he?”
“Only when he has to,” she admitted.
“Of course not. There is some leakage, of course, some raw magic that escapes into the world. Ambient magic, to use the technical term. It can cause strange events and unusual occurrences. All those stories you hear of two-headed sheep being born, or water flowing uphill for a day – that’s Ambient magic at work. Magicians can use that, and many of them spend their lives searching out these snippets of power to use or neutralise them. But real power is only found in a Vortex. And that is why I need access to this one.”
Latellian looked him, pondering his words. “That is why the Magician’s Protocol’s allow any person of magic to enter a Magician’s house. So that the power is shared. Yet you deliberately came at a time when you knew Carward was absent. You forced your way in… so whatever your business here, it is something that Carward would not allow.”
“Yes, very clever!” he snapped at her. “Well, it may be true that I’m not always welcomed by other Magicians. My research into Impressed Magic is perhaps a little controversial.”
“Controversial? Ah! Of course! Impressed Magic could be used by anyone, could it not? Not just magicians! With Impressed Magic you could equip an Army, make it invincible!”
“So they argue,” he grumbled. “Short sighted as they are. As if that is the only possible use of it! But I have studied this longer and deeper than any other Magician ever, and only I know the true possibilities of Impressed Magic!” He leaned forward, gripped her shoulders and stared directly into her eyes, face glowing with excitement. “I know how to Impress Magic into myself! Yes, into my own body! No one has ever even thought of that before – but I know how to do it! Think of the consequences! Magic will no longer be something outside of myself which I must find and use! It will became part of me! I will become something never seen before in this world – a creature of magic, a being of power!”
His intensity was frightening. Fanatical. But Latellian forced herself to think past that.
“You need a Source. You need the power to Impress with.”
“Indeed. I have been kept from completing my work because the Magician’s Council has banned me from access to any Vortex. But now I have the opportunity to fulfil my destiny – and once I have succeeded, no one will ever again be able to keep from power. I will be power!”
He stood up, and dragged her up with him. “Enough lecturing! Your education is complete. Now you know what I seek, direct me to it. Where does Carward hide the entrance? Where is the way in?”
She held his gaze. “You cannot make me talk. This rope may keep me from accessing magic, but it also protects me from your magic, does it not? Or you would have used your power to force me to speak.”
He glared at her. “Yes, very clever of you. But there are other ways of forcing an answer.” Without warning, he struck her on the cheek. Not a slap, he used his fist. Unable to save herself, Latellian went sprawling, her head meeting the stone tiles hard and painfully.
Erdwin leant over her, dragged her upright. “Tell me, or must I beat you further?”
Her head was so full of pain that she could barely think. “There isn’t a Vortex,” she muttered.
He hit her again. This time a punch in the stomach, which left her doubled up on the floor gasping for breath.
“That’s a stupid lie,” he said calmly. “Of course there’s a Vortex. And you’ve seen it, haven’t you? How else would Carward test his apprentice for magical power – save to expose her to the Vortex? Only those with the ability to control Magic can survive such a test. It is how all apprentices are tested.”
She felt dizzy and nauseous, in addition to the pain in her head. “No. No Vortex,” she gasped. “There was… a room. Room of magic.”
“Room of magic? What are you talking about?”
“Round room. Full of drawers. Infinite drawers. Drawers full of magic.” She wondered if she was telling him too much. But she had to convince him that there was no Vortex.
“A room of magic?” He kicked her, though without much force. Just a warning. “How do you get to it? Where’s the door?”
“No door. Magical Portal. Only Carward can open it. Wards.”
He snorted. “You cannot have a magical portal into a Vortex. Open that and you would have a flood of raw magic!” He lifted his foot and despite herself, Latellian cringed. But then he lowered his foot. “Unless… could it be? Could Carward have tamed the Vortex? Given it form and order?”
He sounded impressed in spite of himself. Latellian, despite internal pain and external bonds, managed to get herself up her knees.
“That would explain why I’ve never seen a Vortex,” she muttered.
“If you’re lying to me, girl...” He glared down at her.
Latellian glared back, despite the wide assortment of aches and pains she had accumulated. She’d had aches and pains before. Peasants had to expect some of those in life, but they had to get up and work regardless.
“I’m not lying. The source of magic here is the room I told you of. And it cannot be accessed by any save Carward.”
Erdwin looked as though he wanted to hit her again just out of frustration. “That can’t be. There has to be access. If not physical, then magical.”
“It’s as I say, only Carward can open the Portal. It’s Warded.”
“Well of course it’s Warded!” He glared at her, then his expression cooled to something speculative. “But the question is, what sort of Ward? Something fatal, perhaps? But that’s not really Carward’s style, is it? For all his power, he’s a weakling. He’d prefer something non-lethal. Clever, but not too dangerous...” He scratched his chin thoughtfully. “The simplest way would be to just twist a portal round… you think you’ve opened it, step through and come out in exactly the same place… let me see now...”
He raised his hands. His face took on an expression of concentration. He moved his hands through the air, making the shape of a doorway. When he lowered them, there was indeed a doorway – an outline of shimmering light.
“I need to test this out. But… suppose Carward isn’t as nice as I thought? He could have arranged it to twist into some other place. The bottom of a well, the heart of a furnace, something like that.”
“I suppose that’s what you would have done,” Latellian muttered.
“What? Oh, yes. Well, I suppose so. We’d better find out, hadn’t we.”
He dragged her upright, and smiled brightly at her. “You did offer to help me, didn’t you? Now you will!”
And so saying he thrust her into the portal.
Like Erdwin, Latellian believed that Carward was an essential nice person, but she did have a brief moment to wonder how nice he might be, before she found herself staggering back out of the portal into Erdwin’s arms.
“Well, this is cosy,” he said giving her a hug of quite unwarranted intimacy. “And it seems that Carward is as entirely predictable as I thought. A simple reverse-twist on any Portal that attempts to reach the Vortex. Or, by what you say, this Room of Magic. But now I know what it is, it’s just as simple to counter it. Just give me a moment.”
He dropped her unceremoniously back on the floor – which was not entirely unwelcome as Latellian had not enjoyed his hug in the slightest. It was, however, undignified to be sprawling on the floor again, and she had banged her elbow painfully on the tiles.
Erdwin ignored her. He dismissed the first portal with a wave of his hand, and, taking a deep breath, began to slowly draw another doorway in the air. He took much longer over this one, and - despite the fact that it was supposed to be simple – he had to concentrate so hard that he began to sweat.
So hard, in fact, that he began to lose control of something else. The glamour that had made him look so stunningly handsome slipped a little. To Latellian it appeared as though the sweat was wiping away some of the perfect features, drawing his face down and carving wrinkles in his skin. His eyes had lost their intense colour and his entire body seemed to be shorter. A little stooped, even.
She was not at all surprised. Her brief acquaintance with Erdwin had suggested that he was just the sort of person to hide behind a glamour.
Finally, it was complete. Once more, the outline of a doorway hung glowing in the air. But this time, when Latellian looked into it, she could discern a passageway beyond. It was insubstantial, she could see the hallway through it, but it was there.
“In you go, then,” said Erdwin, still being cautious. He pulled her up and pushed her forwards.
Usually when entering a Portal, Latellian would feel the tingle of magical power all over her skin. This time, nothing – presumably because of the Impressed spell in the rope. Her previous experience of Erdwin’s Portal had been too brief to notice, but now she was in the magical passageway it was obvious – she felt no indication of power at all.
Yet Magic was clearly present, and still acting on her: even if it’s power could not touch her directly, the Portal had transferred her into what appeared to be a magical construct. The passageway that lay ahead was clearly nothing natural. Walls, floor and ceiling were completely smooth, white and glowing faintly. In front of her they seemed to twist away in a quite ridiculous manner, somehow appearing to be going right and left, up and down at the same time. Her head, already aching from Erdwin’s beating, couldn’t deal with what her eyes saw. She hastily looked down at her feet and swallowed hard against the nausea.
“Walk!” Erdwin’s voice commanded her from behind.
She walked, watching her feet moving across the featureless surface. There was no indication of movement but when she glanced back she saw – behind Erdwin’s grim and now much more unpleasant face – no sign of the Portal they had come through.
They walked for a while. Or so it seemed. The passageway did not change.
Time passed. Or so she presumed. It was hard to tell. When she risked glancing up, the way ahead still looked the same. So did the way behind. She staggered on.
Behind her, Erdwin was muttering under his breath.
“How long should this be taking us?” she asked.
He grabbed her from behind and jerked her to a stop. “”Not this long, obviously! Another little trap from Carward – the passage is infinite.”
She thought about it as best she could through the pain in her head. “Then you’d have to open another Portal to get out again?”
“I’ve been trying to!” he snapped at her. “But there’s another Ward in place. It prevents me from using magic whilst within the passageway.”
“Carward wasn’t as predictable as you thought.”
He slapped her, back handed and she fell against the wall. It didn’t seem as hard as the hallway floor, but the pain in her head was renewed nonetheless.
“You think that old fool can out-think me?” he snarled. No trace of charm now, he was all anger and ugliness. “I know things about magic that he never even dared to explore! This little trick is just a delay, that’s all! I’ve already worked out how to circumvent his Ward.”
He searched his pockets and pulled out another clay ball.
“A sprite?” Latellian asked groggily, and tried to brace herself against another burst of light, noise and nausea.
“No, not this one. I use clay balls because clay is a particularly good material for Impressing magic. This one creates a Portal to – well, never mind where to. The point is, whilst I’m prevented from using magic, the Ward cannot effect the Impressed magic in the clay – so...”
He flung the little ball ahead of them. When it hit the floor, the clay shattered and at once a Portal appeared.
“See?” Erdwin was all smiles and good humour again, but Latellian did not trust that one bit. And would not have done even if his glamour had still been in place. “Once the Portal is created it should be a simple matter to redirect its focus...”
He stepped past her, walked up to the Portal and gripped its glowing edges. After a few moments of silent concentration he stepped back and beckoned to her.
“Come along then. Ladies first.”
Latellian looked back down the passage, and contemplated running. Except that there was nowhere to run to, and Erdwin was entirely capable of catching her. Or using the Portal alone and leaving her here. Neither prospect filled her with enthusiasm.
But looking into the Portal she wondered if perhaps that wasn’t the worst of her very poor options. She could see nothing on the other side: the frame was filled with utter blackness, like the very darkest night that had ever been.
Erdwin noticed her hesitation, and sniggered. “Nothing to worry about, just a side-effect of the Ward. Probably. In you go.”
She noted the ‘probably’, and the fact that Erdwin still didn’t want to be first through the Portal. But having little choice, and not wanting to be pushed again, Latellian stepped forward, and with enormous relief found herself standing in the Room of Magic.
It was as she had seen it before – a perfectly circular room about twenty paces across, entirely lined with little wooden drawers. Just above head height an ornate iron walkway, accessed by an iron stairway in similar style, ran round the circumference. A similar distance above that was another walkway, and another beyond that… and so on, rising up to apparent infinity.
She remembered, just in time, not to look too far up. Her head was already aching enough.
Erdwin appeared beside her, apparently coming from nowhere. The Portal wasn’t visible from this side, she noticed. Which meant that there was no way out.
Despite himself, Erdwin was obviously impressed. He turned round slowly, mouth open, tracking the iron walkways and rows of brass-knobbed drawers up and up and up…
For a moment, Latillian considered delivering a swift kick to his nether regions while he was lost in contemplation of the infinite. This would not only serve to hinder his plans, but would also give her considerable satisfaction. If her arms had not been bound she would not have hesitated, but as it was any offensive action might prove difficult to sustain, especially since Erdwin had magic and she did not.
But in any case, his distraction lasted only a moment. Then he returned his gaze to her.
“Don’t attempt it, girl,” he said softly. “Now I have the access I need, I no longer need you. I have no interest in what happens to you now. But attempt to interfere and I will destroy you without hesitation.”
Latellian had no doubt at all that he would do what he said. She stepped back from him, making it clear that she was avoiding confrontation. Though, paradoxically, the urge to give him a good kicking became even stronger.
“Very wise.” Erdwin nodded. Then turned away to examine the Room once more. “Very well,” he said after a few moments. “I admit it. Carward has done something remarkable here.” He gestured around him. “For centuries magicians have sought to control the Sources of Magic, but could never do more than limit and direct the flow of power. But it seems that your Master has found a way.” He glanced around once more. “And I see how he has done it. The room is continually being created – extended into the infinite above us – as power flows through. He has not affected the flow but instead used its own power to generate a form, a template perhaps, which still allows access to the power but keeps it manageable.”
He shook his head in wonderment. “Well, I underestimated Carward. This is an amazing achievement. Almost as amazing as my own will be when I harness the power and Impress it into myself.”
He smiled. “Should you survive this, do convey to your Master my congratulations. And my apologies, for in order to complete my great work, it may be necessary to destroy his. Well, such is life.”
So saying he turned away from her. Raised his hands dramatically, then pointed at a drawer.
Which sprang open. Out hopped a small brown frog.
As anti-climatic moments go, it would have been hard to better.
Erdwin goggled at the frog, who made a short jump in his direction, croaked rather loudly, and goggled back at him.
“What is this?” he asked. His face (now entirely free of its false glamour) seemed caught between bafflement and fury.
“A frog,” explained Latellian helpfully.
The frog took off again, but abruptly disappeared in mid jump.
“WHAT IS THIS?” Erdwin screamed at Latellian, fury now getting slightly ahead of bafflement.
“You mean what was it?” He took a step towards her and she continued a little hastily. “Frog – magical frog, that is. Teleportation frog, I would guess. I assume you’re supposed to hold it and think of where you want to go, then it takes you. But you have to be quick, it seems, or it just goes off about its own business.”
Erdwin took a deep breath. “You’re telling me that Carward has Impressed a frog with magic?” he said in icy tones.
“No. Not at all. The frog was created by the Room. By the magic itself, I suppose. I don’t know why. But it’s not Impressed magic. It’s Innate magic.”
“I don’t need magical frogs, Innate or Impressed!” he snapped. “I need the power – the raw power of the Vortex.” He turned away, flung out an arm and indicated another drawer.
Nothing happened.
“You have to close the other drawer first,” Latellian explained. “Only one drawer can be opened at a time. So Carward informed me.”
Erdwin flung back his head and screamed in frustration. “I – NEED – THE POWER!” he bellowed.
And stretched out his hands.
And gripped. And pulled.
In spite of the Impressed rope, Latellian fancied she could feel the immense surge of power as Erdwin exerted all his strength against the Room. And, driven by his fury, he began to prevail.
“Magic is power driven by desire.” Latellian whispered to herself.
Erdwin’s desire was entirely focused on opening the drawers and drawing power from the Room. That desire was huge and the power available was considerable. Just the Ambient power present from minor leakages was far greater than could be found anywhere in the outside world. And Erdwin was turning that power against the Room itself.
Drawers began to vibrate. A few at first, then a few more – then whole rows, the whole lower floor, an immense rattling and thrumming that grew into a roar as the vibration crept upwards towards infinity.
A draw burst open. No – it didn’t just open, it disintegrated, and whatever magical artefact or creature might have been in it was uncreated, it’s essence transformed into a bolt of pure energy that hurtled across the room and entered Erdwin’s body.
He screamed. Not in pain, but in triumph.
“YES!”
Abruptly an entire row of drawers burst apart. Then another, and another… Latellian shrieked and flattened herself on the floor as power surged and flowed and poured into Erdwin.
None of the magic came near her – the Impressed rope now a shield instead of a shackle - but nevertheless it was terrifying. The air grew hazy with power as drawers further up the infinite column ripped apart and added their contents to the flow of magic that Erdwin continued to draw into himself.
And as he drew on the magic – the magic changed him.
He was expanding, growing. Taller, and wider, his body stretched and bloated and stretched further… he filled the room, apart from the small place where Latellian cowered, and still he continued to grow. Upwards, up into infinity, further and further and faster and faster.
His form was insubstantial now. Latellian could see right through him. And all that there was was power, a twisting column of raw magic.
A vortex was forming. And in spite of the protection afforded by the rope, she could feel it pulling at her, dragging her off the floor, up into what had been Erdwin’s body. She had no idea what it would do to her, but it didn’t seem likely to end well.
Then, out of the chaos, a hand grasped her.
It gripped her arm, firm and strong, and pulled her down, until there was an arm around her and she was looking at Carward’s face. He was shouting something. She couldn’t hear what, the roar of wild magic, free and pure and unchecked magic, filled her ears.
But he wasn’t shouting at her. She saw his gaze, looking round, looking up, his staff raised in one hand as he held her in the other arm.
And the magic heard him. The magic responded to his will, to his desire. It began to slow, and to calm.
Latellian could see the walls again. The drawers that had been ripped open and torn apart were restored, and power was flowing back into them. One by one they slid shut, until the room was as it had been. Carward lowered his staff.
“Are you alright?” he asked, then frowned as he looked more carefully at her. “Clearly not.” He touched her battered face lightly, then frowned. “Curious. Have you become immune to magic?”
“It’s the rope,” she explained. “It’s Impressed.”
“Impressed magic?” Carward raised a bushy eyebrow. “Ah, then I assume Erdwin was behind this!” He set about untying the rope. As it came free she felt the magic return to her, a relief so powerful that she felt dizzy.
“You know Erdwin then?”
“The whole magical community knows him, or of him.” Carward set about healing her injuries. “He was an apprentice like you once, but he was impatient. He wanted the power of magic without the discipline that is needed to control it. He persisted in studying areas that were forbidden him – like Impressed Magic – and so became outcast from the Community of Magic. Always knew he would come to a bad end. Sorry that it involved you, though. If I’d known he planned to come here...” he shook his head sadly.
“I’m just glad you got back in time,” Latellian said.
“No coincidence, that. The Room is alarmed: I knew at once when someone tried to gain access, and returned as fast as I could. Not fast enough though. I must reconsider my Wards, I thought they would be more effective.”
“He was clever. A talented magician, and quite strong in magic. He really thought he could Impress magic into himself.”
“Had he spent more time on his studies he would have known that others have tried that before, with much the same result.”
“I suppose that once he’d released the Vortex, he couldn’t turn it off again,” Latellian speculated. “The power was too much to Impress it all. So it destroyed him.”
“The problem is more basic than that. What is the first lesson of Magic?”
“Well – that Magic is the application of Desire to Power.”
“Precisely. And Erdwin knew that. But he did not realise the danger that comes from the meeting of uncontrolled desire with unlimited power. In fact, it was not the power that destroyed him – it was his own desire.”
Latellian nodded. “I see. He never learned the second lesson.”
"No." Carward shook his head sadly. "In fact, I don't think he even understood the first."