by Alex Sapegin
These enchantment methods and methods of mana use were not mutually exclusive, but often were utilized in combination and complemented one another.
Psionics, or “brain busters” as they were called behind their backs, stood apart from the others. Psionics could directly influence minds and matter, but there was one small catch: dwarfs. They were immune to psionics’ enchantments. Their organic silicon structure and other features of their brains’ anatomy nullified all efforts to cast these spells on dwarfs. What can you do—they had a different operating system.
All methods applied equally well to elemental work and magic of Life and Death. Only the School of Wit worked with psionics.
The full suit of studies was available to Andy. His abilities to wield all elements and the magic of both Life and Death were like a bad joke. His instructors pushed him hard with all magical areas and elements, like a favorite new racing pony. Before that, when he would see a spell as an interweaving pattern, he easily remembered the pattern and could repeat it if necessary. “Will shields” had nothing to do with classical magic. The main skill involved was a strong will and constant concentration. With concentration, meditation and control over internal energy, things got better; not fabulous, but sooo much better than average. The Incarnation had left its indelible mark. Constantly controlling his changing body and using meditative methods of limiting and partially subduing his wild will since the Incarnation (methods which Jaga had shown him), and now even his dragon’s patience at living in humanoid form had already greatly strengthened his will power. These tasks had taught him to be in control of his internal energy channels, magical reserves and external energetics. His temporary blindness had forced him to learn to use true vision. As for all the rest, he was a total ignoramus. At the School, he had to bridge this gap using all the force he could muster. No one was prepared to cut him any slack for his work in the archives or fencing lessons.
Lighting and putting out candles, maintaining the shape of a water sphere, calling up a gust of wind and creating a small whirlwind, decomposing a piece of stone into components or making it change its composition—these were some of the basic tasks. The tasks got harder and harder as his knowledge and skills increased. By the end of the training, he could freely maintain five flames and fireballs while simultaneously forming some rune or figure in the air with pebbles, supporting a fifteen-foot stream of water, five feet thick, and still managing to control and wield the state of the soil under his feet, turning it from a hard dry clay to a soft mica. The masters had no questions for him about reading and writing. They had checked his speed in both and then left him alone. He had to really huff and puff on the Life and Death mages. The memory-strengthening exercises just added to his headache. Master grall Zert’s main incentive for bookworms during their memory development classes was simply not getting punished. Those who did not exhibit the proper zeal got a magical zap. Nothing serious, but enough to provide a little motivation to take the lesson more seriously. After a few magical zaps, one’s head started to clear and the page of script started to stick in your brain from the first reading…. They didn’t just work on texts, either. They also memorized images, multidimensional figures, word combinations, and visual patterns. Master grall Zert had a knack for refining his students’ skills—even perfecting them!
The Rauu approached the board with the schedule of new classes. The “Icicles” continued to conscientiously ignore Andy. He stood not far from the elves and caught one interested glance. Melima. He could still remember her voice from the incident at the city gates. Are you the one who “striped” that red-headed junior student? She’s not saying anything. Just looking at me—if she could bore a hole through my head with that gaze!
“What is it you’ve got against us?” It would surely snow in hell tomorrow. Melima had spoken to him! She probably ate something that didn’t agree with her and was not herself.
“Why should I like you?” The question went unanswered. She only pursed her lips. “I hate Woodies and don’t try to hide it. I don’t have anything against Rauu.” Andy turned away from the elves. There you have it. If Melima were alone, he would have tried to continue the conversation, but to cultivate small talk in front of the whole elven clique? No thanks. He could do without it.
“You’re a dead man!” one of the elves called roughly to him behind his back. Vistamel’s decided to come down from the clouds and interact with the rest of us! Couldn’t help himself.
“Like those four you cut up yesterday?” Andy turned and showed how well-informed he was. “Didn’t you get sick to your stomachs killing kids?”
The elf narrowed his eyes maliciously. “Watch your back.”
Cold wrath hit Andy in the head, but his face didn’t betray a trace of it. I’ve had it with this crowd! Waiting for death is worse than death itself. Come on, do it already! The air around the schedule stand got noticeably colder. Andy was surprised—did he do that? Turning around slowly, he took a step and stood facing the elf, eye to eye. Watch my back? Alright. And what about you? How would you like to?
“Watch your back, long-ears? I’m just watching your backs, but so far none of you has gone into the city alone.” Take that as you will. Yeah, you heard me. Now you know you can be hunted too. Andy clicked his heels and went into the classroom. The Rauu didn’t say anything. Andy had decidedly lost all desire to talk to them. He felt sombre and sick. His day, like yesterday evening, was ruined.
At the end of the last lesson, the rector entered the classroom. The entire freshman class knew why she had come. Rigaud had outdone himself.
“Grall Necros, will you permit me to remove one student from your class?” the rector asked with a pleasant smile.
“Go ahead, you don’t wish to make him a zombie, perhaps? And that wouldn’t be a big deal. He’d sit underground for another month or so, he’d be every bit a zombie!” the teacher said with a smile. He was a tall blond with blue eyes and an openly childish grin. Grall Necros did not conform to any of the Earthly stereotypes of necromancers—gloomy, dressed in dark clothing. On the first day of class, when the bell rang announcing the start of the first lesson, and in walked a young blond man with blue eyes and rosy cheeks, Andy thought some senior had mixed up which room he was heading to. But the guy quickly sent everyone to their seats. During the lesson, grall Necros was full of jokes and corny humor, gave anecdotes from the realm of necromancy, and winked at the ladies, which very much concerned the group’s main alpha male. Rigaud ground his teeth, but managed. He didn’t say anything. Judging by the look on his face, something awful awaited grall Necros. His competition for the females’ attention had apparently mentally prepared a thousand and one deaths for him.
“Kerrovitarr Dragon, you’re free for today. Please learn and describe in a small paragraph the main ways of summoning a deceased person’s soul and communicating with it by the next class.”
Andy threw his notebook in his bag and went to the exit, sensing all eyes in the room on him up to the door. Envious looks followed him from the humans, an enthralled look from Frida the vampire, and a look full of hate from Vistamel. Andy couldn’t care less. Look, long-ears, look all you want. The fish got off the hook, for now, at least, but a lot can happen until next time.
“Ready?” rector Etran asked.
“I was born ready!” Andy fought off the impulse to salute in his enthusiasm. That would be a little too much, especially in front of the others.
All in all, the formalities of taking a blood oath and acquiring a member’s badge of the Free Mages’ Guild didn’t take long. The rector and Andy left the campus building and got in a chaise that was brought right up to the door for them. Ten minutes later, after they had passed the School gates, the driver stopped the carriage near a five-story, white stone building in the Gothic style. This was the Guild’s administration building. The bosses live well, gotta admit. Can’t say they lack taste. It took a couple minutes to get up to the second floor and into the administrative greeting roo
m, where the executive secretary invited them into his office. Not beating about the bush, the elderly little man with a button nose made Andy recite a long-winded spell, after which he pricked him in the finger with a silver needle.
“Press your finger to the seal,” he unrolled a stamped scroll in front of Andy containing the Guild’s standard contract. Pressing his bloody finger briefly on the seal made it glow with a greenish light. The vow had been sworn. “Now telling any state secret, young man, will cause you intense headache and temporary paralysis, enough to allow the special punishing mages to arrest you. It’s in your best interest now to keep our secrets under your hat. In order to avoid unnecessary questions, you may familiarize yourself with the list of questions considered state secrets, appendix no. 2 to the contract. As you are now a provisional member of the Guild, it wouldn’t hurt for you to learn the charter and the Free Mages’ Guild’s main areas of activity. You’ll be given a copy of the Guild’s charter and your badge in the greeting room. There you may also take a copy of the charter of the Royal Mages’ Guild. I think you’ll benefit from reading this as well. Rector Etran, may I speak to you in private?”
Andy bowed to the secretary, who, despite his extremely dry manners, was a very powerful mage. He walked out of the office, leaving the rector and the secretary to their secrets. Ilda, the secretary’s cute assistant, treated him to a cup of tea and a delicious, crumbly biscuit, and handed him the charter and badge.
“Can you activate it yourself or shall I help you?” Ilda smiled with blinding beauty. Andy puffed up his chest and held the badge out to her.
“I’d be most grateful. It’s an honor, receiving my member badge from your delicate hands!” His flirtatious words sparked a new smile. Ten seconds later, the guild member badge was in its rightful place as specified by the charter, on Andy’s lapel. It was above the School badge, not by coincidence, and faintly glowing with a reddish light.
The rector came out fifteen minutes later, looked at Andy, scoffed approvingly, and asked Andy to follow her. It was as if she were saying the formalities were complete; no need to take up these good people’s time any more or eat more of their biscuits. She then very subtly snuck a couple of biscuits herself and descended the staircase, her shoes tapping loudly as she went. In response to Andy’s unspoken question, his surprise at that behavior, she winked and explained:
“I just love these biscuits and couldn’t help myself. Dear me! Ilda’s a talented baker! The best of all the confectioners and candy-makers. I keep trying to get her to work for me at the School, but Ortego won’t let her go. Let’s keep my weakness just between us, okay? A state secret, shall we call it? It doesn’t look respectable—a rector with a penchant for cookies!” Andy nodded, dumbfounded. He was speechless—being the strongest mage in Tantre, she had a sweet tooth! It truly didn’t look respectable.
There was no point returning to School, and he really didn’t feel like it anyway. He had no desire to see anyone. Everything seemed hunky-dory, but under the surface he was feeling quite perturbed. Rector Etran was hiding something; she’d been deliberately obscure. Andy didn’t understand what this obscurity and pussyfooting was about. Something didn’t add up here. The blood oath should have sufficed for keeping state secrets. The “punishing mages” had put a leash on him with a tracking beacon—a real car alarm with satellite tracking of his location. If the alarm went off, a mobile threesome of security guards would tie him up within fifteen minutes. Why would she put a badge on him? To protect him from the Rauu? Why in the world was the rector protecting him? She had buckets of kids just like him, quick as whips and sharp as tacks, lined up waiting to be of service. He was the first universal mage of all elements in a half a century, but still no one knew whether he would turn out to become anything worthwhile or not. What did she need with him? A new order and new methods in classifying archived information? To heck with that! What did the rector have to gain from making him join the guild? Why would she expose herself to risk in the Guild by doing so? Questions, questions…
Andy wandered into the park area. Silence and peace, the easy flowing of the fountains. There was not a soul in sight, and it wasn’t quite evening yet. There were two hours before his next workout; he could take a look at the charters of the Free and Royal Mages’ Guilds, and even make a quick trip to the store, buy a new training outfit; he had left the old one in his dorm. Andy sat on a comfortable bench near a fountain with a statue of a woman holding a vase on her shoulder. What did these charters say?
An hour later, after turning the last page, he thoughtfully rubbed his chin. Eh, everything’s arranged just so! The following picture came into focus:
The Free Mages’ Guild controlled all aspects of magic activity in the country and had a multitude of departments in other countries of Alatar. The guild held the dragon’s share of the market for magical services. The charter contained a whole five-page list of services and set the prices for those services as one who has a monopoly may do. All practicing mages belonging to the guild or not had to confirm their qualifications in special commissions, under the patronage of the Royal Mages’ Guild. Members, once every three years, non-members, once a year. The Free Mages’ Guild only paid for the former; the latter was obliged to invest a pretty penny of weighty coins. Mages belonging to the Guild did not have the right to lower or raise the price of their services beyond the prices dictated by the Guild. An un-registered mage could. But if any incidents should arise, any issues with the quality of the work or magical services, the Guild would correct any shortcomings or send another representative. (The Guild fought to maintain its reputation not by defending itself with words, but by actions.) An unregistered mage would have to deal with these problems by him or herself and ran the risk of not receiving payment. Just try to short change the Guild. If a dispute with a client took on a legal character, the Guild would provide lawyers and defend its own. And unregistered mage, again, would have to deal with it by himself. The question of the country’s defensive capacity was pertinent as well. By law, all mages who were citizens of Tantre had to immediately report to the nearest volunteer office of the royal army in case of a declaration of military hostilities. Equating mages to nobles imposed certain duties on them. The same law regulated a timeframe for training and retraining of practicing mages. The Guild created and maintained military training centers for its members, where every mage went to receive special lessons for twenty days, once every five years. During the training, the mage would receive a stipend of ten golden coins, which wasn’t a huge amount, but was also nothing to sneeze at. Unregistered mages had to pay for the courses themselves. There was a whole list of positions, something like civil service posts, occupied by mages, and the charter specifically prescribed the relationship mages were to have with the state in such cases.
The kingdom did not put limits on its mages. If you want to set up an independent practice and the Guild’s regulations don’t suit you—no problem! Go right ahead. Just be ready to pay for everything yourself. Only well-known mages with a notable family name and a spotless reputation could afford a free practice. The rest preferred to become Guild members, pay their dues of one sixth of their income, and not get tangled up in all the messy details.
It was a little different with the nobility. Most of the mages of noble birth had every right to practice magic on their own land, as they wish. They could very well raise zombies for tilling their fields. A nobleman paid a one-time tax and was free thereafter to realize whatever magical fantasies he could dream up, but only up to a certain point. There were conditions as for hunters on Earyth—buying a license meant you could go shoot, but don’t go near the preserve and after the license expires, you’re done. There was a whole long list of forbidden spells and limits on the allowable levels of magic. If a high-born blew up a cliff by magic on his own land, that was one thing. But if he killed a couple of villages and then raised zombies and used them to dismantle the cliff into pebbles, that was something else entirely. Any experi
ments with transformation or changing of people were forbidden. If such things were found out by snitches, heads would roll. Although, consistent rumors reported that in special military centers, they were conducting experiments like that. On criminals.
And there you have it: the Free Mages’ Guild policed the use of magic through a special department of “punishing mages,” which worked in close tandem with the Royal Informants’ Service and the Secret Chancellery.
In the cities, all magical actions were tracked by specialized artifacts, “contours.” These techno-magical devices worked like radars. If a magical act took place, the “contour” would signal where and to what degree of force magical energy was being used or emitted, and there were local agents of the punishing mages who would check whether it was a registered mage working, or a smuggler of some sort. Official mages were registered and their place of work and magical field (specialty) were noted on special cards. Specialty teams regularly combed rural areas using portable “contours.” The same teams monitored the activities of noble mages and imposed substantial fines for any violations. If the violation was so severe that it went beyond punishment by a mere fine, or if a nobleman refused to pay and it was not possible to arrest him, they called in the Informants. The punishing mages also had the right to arrest, but only until the Informants showed up. They occupied a niche analogous to that of judges on Earth. The punishing mages and the Informants worked together to track down both criminals and renegades.
The Royal Mages’ Guild was engaged in a somewhat different activity. It served two masters—the apparatus of His Royal Majesty the Chancery, in the person of the Chancellor, and the First Counselor to the King, the Archmage of Tantre. The Royal Mages’ Guild selected candidates for the royal armed forces and provided magical defense in the activities of all high state structures and the Court of His Majesty. A separate department of the Royal Mages’ Guild controlled the activities of the Free Mages’ Guild, uncovered any abuses or violations, and imposed fines or carried out arrests of Guild officers. Another classified department served as the internal and external security service.
