The Choice of Magic

by Michael G. Manning

  Erisa bowed her head politely. “You do me too much honor.”

  “Mom!” said Will, nearly shouting. “Who is she?”

  His mother fixed him with a stare that threatened to peel the flesh from his bones. “She came as a lady-in-waiting with Lord Nerrow’s daughter Laina. I don’t know her pedigree, and it would be rude to ask, but you can be sure she’s well above our station. Now, if you’d like dinner, you should sit down over there and shut your mouth before I sew it shut.”

  Selene tittered, and Will’s eyes narrowed. Isabel didn’t titter. She laughed, just like other people. “Stop it,” he told her. “Don’t try putting on airs with me.”

  Selene leaned across and whispered in his ear, “You’re upsetting your mother, William. Remember, I am well above your station.”

  The door banged open, slamming into the wall as Sammy rushed into the room. “Is Will home? I saw a bag on the—” Her eyes lit on Will and she charged into him, knocking him off his stool. “Will! You’re alive! Is the war over? Did we win? Is Eric all right? Were you injured?” She paused to take a breath, then put her hands on either side of his head. “More importantly, are you cooking tonight?”

  Will struggled to disentangle himself, but Sammy was like a spider, clinging to him with a multitude of arms and legs. From the corner of his eye he saw Selene enjoying the scene with some amusement. “Eric is fine,” he answered.

  “Have you seen him?” asked Sammy anxiously.

  “He’s in a different company, but I know he wasn’t wounded. The war is still on, though.”

  “Samantha,” said Erisa coolly. “We have a visitor.”

  Sammy looked over, finally registering the presence of a stranger in the room. She looked Selene up and down critically, like a dog sizing up a rival that had entered its territory. “Who’re you?” she asked finally.

  “Samantha!” snapped Erisa. “This is Lady Selene. Introduce yourself properly before demanding someone’s name.”

  Sammy held out her hand. “I’m Samantha.” Selene took it and Sammy pumped it up and down, then she asked, “Why are you here?”

  Selene laughed. “I’m here to help Will do something to drive the Patriarch’s army away.”

  “Are you his girlfriend?”

  Selene’s cheeks colored immediately, and Will began coughing. Erisa was the first to speak, “Samantha Cartwright, do you need something unpleasant to occupy your attention?”

  Sammy glared at her aunt. “But we have a guest. I haven’t had anyone to talk to in ever so long.”

  “Then be polite.”

  Will’s cousin turned back to Selene. “Have you tasted Will’s food? It’s marvelous!”

  “I can’t say that I have.”

  “Selene was raised on food far better than ours,” said Will. “I doubt she’d be impressed.”

  Selene winked at him. “Why don’t you make dinner and let me be the judge.” Sammy began clapping.

  Erisa frowned. “But he’s tired. I was going to make dumplings with—”

  “Please, Will!” begged Sammy. “If I have to eat Auntie’s cooking one more day, I’ll die. Look how skinny I’ve become.” She leapt up and twirled.

  Will’s uncle showed up then, and a new round of introductions began. Once things calmed down, Will got to his feet and began searching to see what he had to work with. His mother frowned, but let him have his way.

  There wasn’t a lot to work with. There was no butter, but his mother had stored away some lard they had rendered from deer fat. There was also flour, carrots, parsnips, and green onions. He checked the spice cabinet and found they still had salt but no pepper. Then he went outside to check the garden.

  Spring hadn’t quite arrived so he didn’t expect much, but in the worst case he could use some rosemary from the bush beside the house. He was pleased to see his mother had already gotten a patch of thyme started. That will be perfect, he thought. He collected some and went back inside.

  He made dough for a pastry first, mixing some flour and a pinch of salt with the lard and rolling it out. Then he checked the stove to make sure it would be at the proper heat when he needed it. After adding a little wood, he returned to his ingredients and began chopping.

  As he worked, he listened to the conversation in the room. His Uncle Johnathan didn’t have much to say, and Erisa seemed to be playing referee while Samantha plied Selene for information. Will finished the chopping and put the vegetables in the pan to soften a little.

  Samantha had been asking for stories about Will’s time away from home, but she was shifting the subject back to their guest now. “Do you cook?”

  “No, I’ve never learned,” answered Selene.

  Sammy tsked. “That’s too bad. Will’s the best cook in Barrowden. Maybe he’ll teach you. What about sewing?”

  “I know how to tat lace.”

  “Ever made a shirt or a dress?”

  “No, but—”

  Sammy patted Selene’s knee as though she needed comforting. “Don’t worry. Will isn’t much with a needle, but he can sew buttons and mend tears. Aunt Erisa can teach you the hard stuff.”

  Will smiled to himself as he removed the vegetables and added some lard to the pan to melt. Once it was ready, he added some flour to make a thick roux. He continued to listen as his mother interrupted, “Samantha, where are you going with all these questions?”

  “I just want to know a little about her, Auntie. We should know something if we’re going to trust Will to her care,” said Sammy.

  Will fought to keep from laughing. His mother started to apologize, but Selene stopped her. “Please, Erisa, I don’t mind. In fact, I agree with her.”

  He added water to the roux, making a thick gravy, then salted it and added the vegetables back to the pan along with the thyme. Will tasted it several times as he adjusted the salt in small portions. Sammy went on, “What sort of things do you like to do, or rather, what are you good at?”

  “I’ve been working as a healer for the army,” said Selene. “I’ve got some experience with injuries.” She nodded deferentially to Erisa. “Though I’m sure I’m nowhere near as skilled as your aunt.”

  “Or Will,” said Sammy confidently. “He’s been learning since he was little. Auntie says he knows even more about herbs than she does now. A few years ago, he saved a boy who was dying.”

  Will could almost feel his mother glaring at Sammy behind his back, but Selene answered generously, “He helped a lot with the wounded soldiers back in Branscombe. I’m sure you must be very proud of him.”

  Johnathan broke in, “So what did you do before the war broke out?”

  “I learned magic at Wurthaven for several years,” answered Selene.

  Will began adding the mixture he had created to the pastry, creating small pies. He brushed a wet finger along the edges and pinched them together before arranging them on a metal sheet meant for the oven. “So, you’re a wizard?” asked Will’s uncle.

  “Actually, I’m a sorceress.”

  “Oh,” said Erisa. The conversation stopped there, and an awkward silence filled the room.

  Will slid the pan of pastries into the oven and turned around. “All done. Now we just need to wait a while.”

  Sammy leaned over and whispered to Erisa, “She doesn’t look evil.” Her voice was still loud enough for everyone in the room to overhear.

  Erisa’s cheeks flushed red with embarrassment, but Will intervened. “Mom, would you mind watching the oven for a while? I thought maybe Selene would like to take a walk.”

  “I’ll come!” declared Sammy.

  “Sit down,” growled her aunt.

  Selene rose to her feet. “I think I’d like that.” Sammy was pouting as she and Will went outside. Once they were a short distance from the house, Selene observed, “Your cousin adores you.”

  Will snorted. “She’s always been a pest.”

  “I think she’s cute. She obviously wants to protect you.”

  He didn’t answer.
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  “Your family doesn’t think much of sorcerers, do they?”

  Will shrugged. “My grandfather hated them. Mom probably heard his opinions on the matter when she was younger. I don’t think Sammy and Uncle Johnathan have any definite thoughts about it, other than what I’ve said.”

  “But you hate them too, don’t you?” asked Selene, fixing him with soft eyes.

  Looking at her made his heart ache, but he wouldn’t lie. “Yes.”

  “That’s why you said those things before, when we argued,” said Selene, then she laughed. “I’ve always been proud of it. I never thought I’d find myself in a place where people regarded me as something worse than a warlock.”

  “A warlock isn’t necessarily evil,” said Will. “Usually they are, but it depends on what they bargain with, and what they do with the power they gain. A sorcerer is evil no matter what they do, because their power comes from suffering.”

  She stopped, spinning around to face him directly. “Whose suffering?”

  He glanced up at the elementals hovering protectively above her. “Theirs.”

  “They aren’t human, William. They don’t have souls.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong.”

  “I studied at Wurthaven for years. None of the teachers there would agree with you. My family has possessed elementals for centuries. I come from a long line of renowned sorcerers. None of them ever thought as you do. Don’t you think it’s a bit arrogant to presume you know better than the wisdom and experience of so many sorcerers and wizards?” she argued.

  “Maybe,” he admitted. “But my teacher thought that all those people you named were fools.”

  “And you believe his word over that of every other scholar of magic?”

  “I wasn’t sure at first, but over time I’ve seen the truth in everything he told me, even things I didn’t understand at first.”

  They walked in silence for a while, the distance between them far greater than the foot or two that separated their bodies. Then she spoke again. “I heard about what you told Lord Nerrow. It didn’t make sense before, but at least I know why you refused his gift. You alienated the one man with some cause to help you.”

  “I have other friends.”

  She sighed. “You think you can depend on me for everything?”

  Her phrasing irritated him. “Not you. Friends who aren’t noblemen. Wealth and power aren’t everything.”

  Selene stopped, and when he looked at her, he realized he had gone too far; her eyes were red, and her hands were clenched into fists by her sides. “Am I not even a friend then?”

  Without thinking, he threw his arms around her, pulling her close and squeezing tightly. She went rigid at first, but gradually she thawed. “I didn’t mean it like that,” said Will. “Forgive me.” He relaxed and she pushed him back, turning her face away.

  “I don’t know why I put up with you,” she said after a minute. “You’ve insulted me in more ways than I can count in just a few months of knowing you. In my entire life I never had to endure so much.”

  “No one would dare,” he suggested, “since you were well above their station.”

  “I’ve spent a lot of time disguised as an unknown,” countered Selene. “You still managed to outdo all the strangers I’ve met.”

  Will smiled. “It’s a gift.”

  “Speaking of gifts, why are you so stubborn about accepting them?”

  He had spent a lot of time thinking about that, and lately he had begun to develop some ideas. “It’s a rule I was given, but I think I understand the reason now. It’s the difference between a warlock and a wizard.” She waited for him to explain, so he continued, “The simple definition is that a warlock bargains for power, but that doesn’t really cover it. Warlocks bargain things that shouldn’t be traded. In the best case they bargain their soul, and in the worst, they bargain someone else’s, but either way they create a debt. A debt to whatever power is waiting to claim them, or a debt to the people they’ve stolen from.

  “A wizard doesn’t do that. A wizard trades honestly, and never trades himself.”

  “But a gift from a friend isn’t the same,” argued Selene.

  Will shook his head. “It creates a debt of gratitude. That can be a problem for anyone, even ordinary people, but for someone with power it’s more significant.”

  “Then friends shouldn’t give one another gifts?”

  “Friends should be equals. A great disparity in wealth or gift-giving poisons the relationship.”

  “What about married people? Should they also refrain from showing affection through presents?” she asked.

  “That’s different,” he answered. “In marriage both partners have agreed to accept each other’s strengths and weaknesses. They’re united, in possessions and everything else. Since they don’t own anything apart, they can’t create that kind of debt.”

  Selene became thoughtful, and after a moment said, “What about love? Sometimes one loves another without receiving love in return.”

  Considering what had happened to his mother, Will had strong opinions on the topic, but all he said was, “I’m not sure.”

  “Love doesn’t count,” declared Selene confidently. “Because it’s the one thing that becomes greater in the giving.” Will didn’t reply.

  Selene began swinging her arms. “So, what I’ve concluded is that the only way for anyone to give you gifts is to marry you.” She laughed when she saw the panic on his face. “Don’t worry, I wasn’t suggesting it. As I’m sure you’ve guessed, it wouldn’t be possible.”

  He agreed, though perhaps not for the reason she thought. Arrogan and Aislinn had paid dearly for whatever mistake Arrogan had made, and they were both wizards. Applying the same logic, it occurred to him that a wizard had to be even more careful when considering marriage. Only a partner who could be trusted not to endanger the wizard with a debt or obligation that might be disastrous could be considered. By definition, a sorcerer would be a violation of that rule from the very beginning.

  She had been watching him from the corner of one eye while he thought. Thinking she had made the mood awkward, she posed a new question, “How did you free those elementals? That was a lie, wasn’t it?”

  “Why would I lie?” he replied.

  “To make him angrier,” observed Selene. “You’re spiteful like that. Do you have any idea how valuable his offer was?” When he just shrugged, she continued, “The king would probably have given you a title. After Lord Fulstrom’s elementals were lost, his heir wouldn’t be allowed to inherit. His family might even wind up on the streets. It’s possible you might have been chosen to take his estate.”

  “I’m not his heir. That makes no sense. Can the king even do that?”

  She nodded. “The nobles hold their lands in good faith, but it all belongs to him. He won’t allow someone without power to inherit.”

  Will felt a slight pang of guilt over what might happen to Lord Fulstrom’s family, but he shoved it aside. It wasn’t his fault. The entire system was flawed, built upon a foundation of suffering. “Well, what I said was the truth, regardless. Want me to prove it?” He held out his hand toward her chest as though he would pull the enchantments from her body.

  She took a quick step back. “Only a master sorcerer could do that, and only for his own elementals.”

  Will looked at the ground, studying the dead sticks scattered around them. They reminded him of one of Arrogan’s more painful lessons. “The heart-stone enchantment is just like a spell, only more complicated, and just like a spell it can be taken away from someone. Once you do that, you can pick it apart.”

  Selene frowned. “You can’t take someone’s spell away. Once turyn has been formalized into a spell, it can only be used by the owner of the spell.”

  “That’s not what I was taught,” said Will. Then he challenged, “Why don’t we see who’s right, my teacher or all those scholars of magic you’re so proud of?”

  “You don’t even know an
y spells,” she said dismissively.

  “I’ve learned one,” he said defensively, “but that’s not the idea. You make a spell and hold it without releasing it. I’ll see if I can take it away from you.”

  She gave him a smug look. “Would you like a simple spell or a complicated one? Not that it matters.”

  “Complicated. I don’t want you saying it was too easy.”

  Selene held out her hands, and runes began to rapidly appear, too quickly for him to follow with his eyes. Over the span of a minute they built up into a complex spherical web above her palms. She gave him look of pride when the spell was complete.

  “What does that do?” asked Will.

  “It’s a spell to clean a room.”

  His mind was boggled. “That’s all it does? Why is it so complicated?”

  “You’re letting your ignorance show,” she told him. “The most powerful magic isn’t necessarily complicated, and sometimes a minor magic requires a lot of complexity to work properly. A cleaning spell has to have a lot of rules built into it; otherwise it will make a mess instead of doing what you want. It has to differentiate between dust and dirt and things that ought not be removed. Hard floors are not like rugs, and fabric can’t be cleaned like dishes. This spell can handle all those things. Still think you can take it away from me?”

  Will ignored the question. His mind was occupied by thoughts of all the hard labor he had done at his grandfather’s request. The old bastard could have cleaned it all in a minute, he realized. He knew for a fact that the old man must have known the spell, for he had seen how clean Arrogan’s bedroom had been.

  He held out his hands, putting them on either side of her spell. A second later, the glow of the runes began to flicker, and Selene’s eyes went wide. No, that’s not it, Will told himself. I don’t want to absorb it; I want to take it. He tried to remember the sensation he had felt when he drew the heart-stone enchantments out of the dead sorcerers’ bodies.

  Unlike those occasions, he felt a stiff resistance. Selene wasn’t dead; she was very much alive and still holding onto the spell. What had his grandfather told him with the candle? He needed to change the color of the flame to regain control of his turyn. This was similar. He had to convert the turyn within the spell to his own type before the spell would be his.