by Pirateaba
“This is a true book of magic. It is a teaching device, not simply a list. Observe.”
He flips the book open, and I find myself staring at a page full of strange symbols that seem to move or—or have more than two or three dimensions despite being written on the page.
It looks like Ceria’s spellbook, at least in that there’s written magic there. But unlike her spells, these symbols look different. They cover the page, and I get the distinct sense they’re connected. I flip through the pages, noting a certain continuity among the strange symbols.
They’re nothing I could translate to English or any language I know, but the little magic Ceria taught me means I can still read…something. Is it a spell on the book? No. It—it doesn’t look like the spell Ceria showed me. Instead, the shimmering not-words of magic look almost like an—
Of course, fire is a primal construct. Of course. Why did I not understand that? If heat and cold are a duality, then fire represents heat just as ice would cold. Science would say that fire is complex, but to nature, fire is a simple thing. It devours.
And so, unlike the [Light] spell in order to cast a flame spell, I need to offer fire a source. Light is so ethereal that it can be shaped easily by magic; but fire requires fuel. So concentrate mana in one finger, and ignite it. Let your will be the spark and then feed it constantly, let it grow larger and larger—
Explanation.
I blink. And then stare at the glowing flame dancing on my fingertip. I gasp, and it goes out in an instant. A wisp of smoke flies upwards and dissipates.
Teriarch laughs. I look up at him, amazed and moved.
“The book just explained to me how to cast—I learned that spell in an instant!”
I know how to cast that spell, now! No—more than that! I know how fire magic works, at least at the most basic level. The spell I cast wasn’t even a spell, just applied theory. If I used it in a real spell—
Teriarch looks smug as he regards my stupefaction.
“The art of magical teaching has been lost to many. I suspect formalized schools of education such as those in Wistram and those nations that have lasted longer than a few centuries – Terandria for example – might have comparable methods. But this book was a crystallization of the Rihal Imperium’s knowledge of six hundred years. This is a merely a book the apprentices and novices would study, of course.”
I’m only half-listening to him. It was magical. It was magic. And that was one spell. I’d almost given up on ever learning magic like Ceria since it seemed to be so dependent on levels, but that—that was like learning science, or math. It was logical. It made sense in its own way.
“You learnt that spell fairly quickly. Some students take numerous tries before they can begin learning even the most simple of cantrips. But then, fire has always come easily to your kind, hasn’t it?”
An instructional spellbook. Not some mage’s personal notes or collection of spells, but an primer to spellcasting*.
*I want it. Can I take it and give the Gnolls something else? Or can I copy it with my iPhone—damn, that’s not going to work. I’ve got to read this first. I’ve got to have it. Somehow.
“Well. I’d say that spellbook would be an excellent gift for the Silverfang tribe. Why not giv—”
“I have told you once and now again: no.”
I grit my teeth. I need that book.
“Would you accept a trade? Knowledge for knowledge? Or something else?”
“You have nothing to offer me.”
The book floats back towards the bookshelf as Teriarch smiles again. He just wanted to show off his collection. But I’ve got—I reach into my pocket, reluctantly. Time to play a card.
“Would you accept this?”
Teriarch blinks at my iPhone.
“What is that? A piece of metal? No—there is some energy within it.”
I hit the power button on my iPhone and the screen lights up. Rather than recoil in surprise or gasp like I was hoping him to, Teriarch just stares at the iPhone and listens to my explanation.
“Ah. An information device. I have seen magical versions of this. They were always too small for me when the Gnomes made them, though.”
“Well, it’s a one-of-a-kind—it’s damn rare since only people from my world have it.”
“Hmm. But it has no magic in it.”
“Yeah. So? It’s still rarer than your spellbook.”
“Hmf. Metal wrought. That is all your little thing is.”
How can a Dragon be so intelligent and so dismissive all at once? It’s the arrogance thing again. I keep my voice level.
“It can do more than just light up. It plays music.”
When I hit the ‘shuffle’ button on my iPhone and it begins playing music, Teriarch’s eyes open wide. Not because of the ability to play music, as it transpires.
“I have never heard that song before.”
My iPhone is playing ‘Beethoven’s 5 Secrets’, a song I found on a Youtube channel I became addicted to a few years back. It’s a remastered version containing elements of four movements from Beethoven’s 5th Symphony. Not to go on too much, but it’s a complex melody using instruments in ways even a Dragon wouldn’t have heard before.
I grin. Music is one of the few things my world will never lose at. Genius is genius no matter where it goes. I wonder what the faeries would think of this song.
“Do you have more songs on this device?”
“Thousands.”
“I see. Then it is useful. I believe I shall study it.”
“Wait. What?”
Before I can react, Teriarch reaches out. His claw is insanely quick for something so big. It takes a chunk out of my iPhone. I shout in shock as the screen goes dark and the music cuts off abruptly.
“You bastard! Why the hell did you—”
Teriarch ignores me. He taps the iPhone in my hands with his claw. Instantly, it’s whole once more. Then the Dragon coughs.
“Ahem. [Repair].”
There it is again. I’m damn sure now that he doesn’t need to even say the spells out loud to use them. Does that mean it’s not necessary or that Dragon magic works differently from every other species’ magic?
Right now I’m still shocked. I touch my iPhone, and it powers up smoothly. Hell, it’s still on the same song! But I realize Teriarch is still holding the piece he tore away. He tosses it up in the air and speaks another word.
“[Reconstruct].”
The piece of torn silicone and metal flies up into the air, and an iPhone falls down. Teriarch pauses it in the air right in front of me, and I stare at a second fully-functional iPhone 4 hovering in the air.
“My, that took quite a bit more energy than I expected. But as you can see, an object not made of magic can be easily replicated. So it is not so valuable as you think.”
The iPhone floats up and Teriarch inspects it.
“I shall have to use a Human form to investigate this. Ah, well, it may be worth the effort.”
“Give that back!”
I shout at the Dragon, and for the first time jump up and try to snatch it from his claw. He moves out of the way, eying me curiously.
“Stop shouting, young Griffin. You have your device fully intact, do you not? I will take this copy.”
“You can’t do that! That’s theft! It’s not legal!”
“Why not? It cost you neither time nor your possession. I simply copied it.”
“What—you—”
He speaks over my splutters.
“Besides, there is no law here against such things. I am in the right regardless.”
Calm down, Ryoka. Ignore the desire to punch the D—
I kick Teriarch in the leg instead. Pivot, balance on one leg, side kick. I feel like I’ve just hit a wall. The Dragon frowns at me.
“Stop that.”
I glare up at him. Okay, violence isn’t going to work here. Instead, I go for a rationed response.
“You can’t just take my iPhone and not g
ive me something in return. That would be theft.”
“As I have just said, I stole nothing. You have what you came in with.”
“But you stole information! Ideas! Data! Intellectual property! Theft is still theft even if you use magic to restore what was taken. Or are Dragons above the morality of we inferior beings?”
He frowns at me. But I can see I’ve struck a nerve. He glances sideways, and then his tone grows smoother.
“This little thing doesn’t have that much data on it. Surely—”
“It’s got 32 gigabytes of data on it! You could store over a hundred thousand books* on it!”
*Am I right? If you assume each book is…screw it, I’m right!
Teriarch blinks at me. Then he stares at my iPhone.
“So many? But the Gnomes could only get—ahem.”
He coughs.
“Well, I admit this device is interesting. So perhaps I will pay you a few hundred coins for it. How does that sound.”
I stare at him.
“Give me that book and we’ll call the debt even.”
“What? But that is a Rihal—”
“You copied my iPhone. You took my possession first, so if you want to keep it, you’ll give me the tome.”
Maybe it’s my tone of voice, but Teriarch gets mad. He looms over me, growling. His hot breath is like a blast furnace on my face.
“It was my magic that recreated it, girl. Do not try to negotiate—”
“Are you a thief, ‘oh great Dragon’? Or are you a bully and a thug who steals from people who can’t resist?”
“I never said—”
“Can it!”
I’m shaking. I point at the tome.
“Give me that. Give me that and I’ll make sure the Silverfang tribe honors your name, and you can have an iPhone worth more than half of your crumbling books put together. But refuse and I’m walking out of here with two iPhones.”
“I do not suffer threats or extortion, brat. I could erase your memories, you know. Or blast you into ash.”
Teriarch opens his mouth and I see a hot glow from below. I try not to gulp as I meet his eyes.
“You could. But you and I would both know that you were a thief. Forever.”
For two long minutes he and I lock eyes. I feel sweat running down my back and some stings my eyes, but I don’t dare blink. Then he looks away.
“Hah.”
He chuckles. All at once, the intensity of our confrontation fades away. I watch as the Dragon starts chuckling, and then laughs; a full-bodied sound that makes his scales ripple.
“You really are an interesting Human. I can see why Reinhart is so fascinated by you.”
Slowly, I breathe out. And find myself sitting down. Teariarch sees that and chuckles harder.
“And more intensity and you might have wet yourself just like she did all that time ago. Or was that her maid? Ah, well.”
He keeps laughing. Me? I’m trying not to revert back into a babbling mess. To steady myself, I stare back at the image of Erin and Octavia. Oh? Now they’re trying to put out a fire. A black fire that seems to be shooting globs of molten fire around her shop. And now some potions have heated up and one’s explodes. Good, good.
“The arrogance and temerity of—but that is why I find myself so…how long has it been? Besides Reinhart, of course. But even she didn’t dare—except for that time…”
He’s mumbling to himself again. I rouse myself and stare at him.
“Well?”
That snaps him out of it. Teriarch stares at me for a long moment, and then sighs.
“Would you accept ten thousand gold pieces? Twenty thousand?”
Twenty th—no, wait, the Gnolls spent over fifty thousand, didn’t they? I eye Teriarch. Hell, I might be able to bargain him up to that, but…
Nah, I want to read that spellbook.
“The book, Teriarch. Take it or leave it.”
“I—hrgh. Very well.”
Teriarch seems to waver, and then he makes a snap decision. He makes the book fly out of the bookshelf and then dumps it in my arms.
“There. Take it. It is a deal. And I will keep this.”
He holds the iPhone in his claws like a prized possession. I grin, almost giddy. I did it!
Then I have another thought.
“How can I carry it?”
“Use the bag.”
Teriarch snaps at me as he delicately inspects the iPhone. He’s sniffing it, and even licking it with the tip of his tongue. It only takes me a second to realize he means the bag of money. I open it, and somehow it opens wide or the tome grows small, because it suddenly fits in the bag.
“A bag of holding.”
“Well, of course. Did you think all those gold coins fit in there by chance?”
“Isn’t that ex—”
I bite my tongue just in time. Don’t look a gift bag in the mouth, Ryoka. Unless it’s to see whether I can fit inside it. Teriarch is too busy acquiring his latest possession anyways.
Huh. It was amazing how he could create a second iPhone just like that. Wait. If he can do that, could he—
“Teriarch, would you consider duplicating the iPhone? For my friend?”
What if we could call each other? Hell, if I could get more copies—
Teriarch pauses at my words. He stares down at me, and then turns his entire body. He brings his head down to eye-level and says one word.
“No.”
It nearly blows my eardrums out of my head.
—-
Okay, as it turns out, Dragons might be willing to part with a part of their treasury—very reluctantly—but they hate the idea that their possessions can be copied. That was what Teriarch explained to me after my ears stopped ringing.
Now it’s time to go. Teriarch is eying the magic pouch I stored the spellbook in, and he seems grumpy. If I didn’t know better I’d say he was tired, but it might just be that he gave away his book. At least he’s still teleporting me, anyways.
“Stand inside of the circle. There. Do not move.”
He instructs me as he fixes his eyes on the image with Octavia and Erin in it. It looks like the fire is out, but the shop is still smoky and the two girls seem to be engaged in a shouting match. Before that they were lying on the ground, covered in sweat and panting.
I hold still, although I want to move and whoop and shout for joy. I did it! I actually got—there’s so many things I want to say that I can barely contain myself.
There’s a lot more I want to ask Teriarch as well. But he definitely looked ticked as he mutters about non-exact coordinates and not putting my corporeal form though a wall. Ew. I think of splinching from Harry Potter and still my nervous movements.
Teriarch frowns at me.
“The spell is nearly complete. I would warn you to gear yourself better, but you clearly have some ability to have survived this far. What happened to your fingers?”
Only now does he notice? I glance at my right hand.
“I lost it on the delivery.”
“Ah.”
The Dragon goes still above me. He stares at my hand, mid-way through his spell. I shrug, trying to ignore the feeling in my stomach.
“It was my fault. I—made a pact with the faeries. To save a life, I gave that up and a Gnoll tribe gave up their lives.”
“I see. I am sorry.”
Teriarch hesitates. He opens his massive maw a few times and closes his mouth, as if he wants to say something. His eyes flick left towards something, but he eventually remains silent. I half-grin.
“You know, I was prepared to give up my arm to save my friend, Erin. I didn’t know what I’d have to give up for your help?”
The Dragon shakes his head at me, utterly confused.
“An arm? What would I do with an arm?”
“I don’t know. I just thought—the faeries always demanded a sacrifice for their help, a big one. It never occurred to me to just ask for help or—trade.”
Teriarch snorts i
n derision, and waves one claw in front of his face. Why would a Dragon have such Human qualities? Maybe he learned it from observation? Or maybe—Humans learned it from him?
“You have been speaking too much with those pests. Their sense of duty and obligation—indeed, their price for intervention is far different from yours or even mine. I would advise avoiding their help unless completely necessary.”
See, this is why I shouldn’t go. I shift and stare up at Teriarch.
“Really? They’re that different? I thought since you and they were immortals you’d be the same.”
The Dragon goes for the bait. He snorts at me, and this time smoke makes me cough.
“Ah. My apologies. But your comparison is as humorous as it is insulting. I am a Dragon, not a being of nature. We are both immortal, true, but our roles are vastly different, as our capabilities. I take it that you are aware the faeries are not from this plane of existence?”
“I am.”
“They travel between worlds, and so they have different perceptions. In some places, or so I am told, the will of the world and fate can conspire against interference and punish those who would dare such folly. In the same way, Gods guard their demesnes jealously. Even the fae would not tempt the wrath of such beings lightly. Hence, their rules are kept and enforced among their kind.”
Oh. That makes a ton of sense. I try to give Teriarch my most engaged-student look. I’m bad at it. I never paid a lot of attention in class if I knew the material, but if Teriarch were my lecturer, I’d go to every class.
“Their superstitions and internal laws are meant to protect, but sometimes become redundant. In this world, for instance. The Gods are dead. They have more authority here, hence their control over the weather. But I suspect the fae dislike attachments and debt in any case, which is why they would refuse to help. Too, they love tradition, and would demand a gift for any great aid freely given.”
Gift? Was that my fingers? Or—no, that was an exchange. But could I get them a gift? An iPhone?
“But that is enough of faeries. Stay away from them, or not, but take my gift to the Gnolls. Tell them it is…for their future.”
