“Wonderful,” said Eynon. “Where’s the artifact studio?”
“Don’t let the old man tease you,” said Nûd. “He won’t miss one of your meals. You can count on him showing up with a big appetite in the morning. The two of you can head off together after you eat, while I clean up.”
“In that case,” said Eynon, “I’d better start mixing up the dough for the honey-raisin rolls I promised you in the morning.”
“Don’t let us stop you,” said Damon.
Nûd smiled and started clearing supper dishes.
* * * * *
“It’s not fair,” said Damon the following morning as he led Eynon up a flight of stairs and down a long hallway to the artifact studio. The older man was licking his fingers and smiling.
“What’s not fair?” asked Eynon.
“Serving us honey-raisin rolls on a day when we have to carve wax and cast a setting.”
“My apologies,” said Eynon. “I’ll never do it again.”
“Hah,” said Damon. “An apprentice who can give as good as he gets! Don’t worry, our fingers won’t be a problem.”
When they arrived at the artifact studio a few minutes later, Eynon saw why. Nûd had somehow made it there ahead of them. He’d left them two basins of water and a pair of linen towels on top of a waist-high stand just inside the door.
Damon and Eynon each put their hands in a basin to wash off honey from the rolls.
Eynon noticed a bowl of coarse white powder between the basins.
“What’s that for?” he asked.
“Cleaning plaster off your hands,” said the older man. “It’s part soap and part scrubbing sand and comes from the desert west of here. You may need it later.”
“Interesting,” said Eynon. “Are there maps in the library so I can get a better understanding of where we are?”
“No,” said Damon as he dried his hands.
Eynon’s face fell and a familiar voice interrupted from the doorway.
“Don’t tease him like that,” said Nûd. “It’s not kind.”
Nûd leaned against the door frame, watching Damon.
“Oh, all right,” said older man. “I was going to tell him in a minute.”
“You mean there are maps in the library?” asked Eynon.
“No, they’re not in the library,” said Damon, pausing theatrically. “They’re in the map room.”
“There’s a map room?”
“I’ll show you in a few days. For now, you need to focus on cutting your magestone and creating a setting to hold it.”
“A few days!”
“Or sooner, if your efforts today go smoothly,” said Damon, glancing at Nûd.
Eynon had an extra incentive to do well, now. He finished drying his hands, hung his towel on a bar on the side of the stand, and took in the room’s details.
The artifact studio was large, though not as big as the library. It had tall glass windows divided into panes and faced east to catch the morning sun. Every corner of the room was filled with light.
Chee jumped from Eynon’s shoulder to a set of shelves nearby and curled up to nap on a folded fleece that strangely sparkled where the sun caught it.
Without thinking, Eynon took his new magestone out of his belt pouch and rubbed its surface with his thumb.
“Damon?”
“Yes?”
“Why do magestones need settings? Why can’t I hold my stone in my hand and make magic?”
Eynon held up his stone and admired its surface.
“You can,” said Damon. “For that matter, you already have, from what you told us at dinner last night.”
Eynon had managed to dodge questions about casting a fireball with the blue amulet by telling Nûd and Damon about building a tower of solidified sound with his red magestone before Rocky swooped down to rescue him from the basilisks.
“Then why do I need a setting?” asked Eynon.
“Why don’t you answer your own question, lad? Tell me why a wizard might want his magestone in a setting.”
Eynon thought for a few seconds, then spoke.
“To keep his hands free.”
“Bravo!” said Damon. “Most apprentices miss that one—it’s too obvious.”
“Not to me,” said Eynon.
He remembered the challenge of holding his makeshift shard-sword in one hand and his staff in the other. What about other reasons? he considered. Eynon thought back to the fireball that went off when he touched a particular spot on the silver metalwork of the blue magestone around his neck.
“I wonder,” Eynon said tentatively. “Can settings hold triggers for specific spells wizards need to cast quickly? Or ones they have to cast all the time?”
“Very good,” said Damon. “How did you figure that out?”
“It was a lucky guess.”
Damon smiled and gently shook his head. Eynon wasn’t sure how to interpret the older man’s expression.
“Any other reasons?”
“To impress non-wizards?” offered Eynon.
“Hah!” said Damon. “Perhaps you’re right, but there are things you don’t know about settings. They help strengthen the link between the magestone and the mage and constrain magestones’ power in normal circumstances so it’s harder to accidentally summon a fireball big enough destroy a castle instead of just knocking down a wall.”
“You mean I could release a giant fireball by accident?” asked Eynon. He quickly put his red magestone back in his belt pouch.
“If you’re not careful,” said Damon. “The Master says there’s no telling what might happen if a truly angry wizard held a naked magestone.”
“I hope I never find out.”
“I do, too,” said Damon. “Let’s get busy.”
Damon walked over to a low table near the windows. On its white marble top were two small pine mallets, a tray filled with tiny chisels, a jar of reddish powder, and a soft-looking cloth a bit larger than Eynon’s outstretched hand. The center of the table held an arched wooden mechanism incorporating several felt-covered clamps. A wooden bench decorated with carved and painted knotwork patterns was nearby. The older man moved the bench into place next to the table and indicated to Eynon with a nod.
Eynon nodded back and sat down.
“Take out your magestone and clamp it in place,” said Damon.
“Why?” asked Eynon, as he moved the gem from his belt pouch to the device.
Chee jumped from his spot on the shelf to the tabletop and sniffed the magestone, regarding the glowing red gem from all sides as Eynon locked it securely in place.
“He asked you a question,” said Nûd.
“Who’s the instructor and who is the servant?” asked Damon, wagging a finger at the big man.
Eynon smiled to himself but didn’t let it show.
“Your magestone is impressive now,” said Damon, “but with artful cutting, it will be magnificent.”
“You want me to cut my stone?” asked Eynon.
“I want you to listen to your magestone and shape it to maximize its beauty,” said Damon. “Let your magestone guide your hand.”
“If you say so,” said Eynon.
He regarded the mallets and chisels warily, then turned to his stone on the table. Eynon inhaled deeply, filling his lungs and letting his breath out slowly. I can do this, he thought. He set his jaw and closed his eyes so he could listen to whatever advice his magestone had to share, then opened them again with a start when Chee rubbed his velvet-soft fur against Eynon’s hands. He instinctively rubbed Chee’s chin, his concentration broken.
“I don’t think that table is a good place for a raconette,” said Nûd.
The big man picked up the furry familiar and cradled C
hee in the crook of one of his massive arms. Nûd produced a small treat from his pouch and fed it to the raconette to distract him.
Eynon bowed his head briefly in thanks, then barely noticed the raconette’s presence in the room. He had connected with his magestone and was listening intently as the stone whispered to him wordlessly. Without conscious thought, Eynon’s hands found a mallet and chisel and began to tap.
Thirty minutes later, the cutting was finished. Damon clapped Eynon on the shoulder, bringing him out of his unplanned trance.
“Very nice, lad. Very nice indeed. A little polishing will make it even better.”
Eynon looked down at his magestone, somehow seeing it anew. He’d thought its smooth, round surface was amazing before he’d cut it, but now, with facets adding depth and sparkle, its luminous beauty almost overwhelmed him.
“Use the red powder and the smooth cloth to polish it,” said Damon.
A few seconds of work made the surface of his magestone glisten. When he gazed into its surface, his vision was almost pulled inside the gem. He leaned back to get another perspective on the glowing red stone, admiring it from a distance.
“Careful, don’t tip over,” said Damon.
The stool was precariously balanced on two legs until Damon’s knee pressed against the middle of Eynon’s back and set him upright.
“Are we done for the day?” asked Eynon.
He wasn’t sure how he felt about the magestone using his hands to do the cutting. The blue stone around his neck had also advised him, but never taken control. It still felt wonderful to hold his stone.
“We’re just getting started,” said Damon. “It’s time to work on your setting.”
Eynon stood and followed as the older man led him over to a long, high, well-lit worktable against one of the side walls. Several disks of beeswax as thick as Eynon’s little finger rested in the center of its dark stone surface, along with a set of wood and metal tools for wax carving. Two tall stools were placed nearby, and three substantial leather-bound books were within arm’s reach at the far end of the table.
“Sit,” said Damon, pulling up a stool for himself.
Eynon sat on the other stool and picked up one of the wax disks.
“Your magestone is round,” said Damon, “so I thought you might want a round setting, but the design is completely up to you.”
“A round setting is fine,” said Eynon. “I think I’d like it to be a medallion or amulet, something that suggests protection, not power.”
“Interesting,” said Damon.
“You don’t approve?”
“It’s not my place to say one way or another,” said the older man. “The setting for a wizard’s magestone is a deeply personal choice. It should reflect who you are, not what any other wizard suggests.”
“That makes sense,” said Eynon. “Please give me a few minutes to think on it.”
“Certainly,” said Damon.
The older man busied himself by taking small bags, like miniature grain sacks, from a lower cupboard. Fine white dust scattered up into the sunlight when he placed them at the end of the table opposite the books, next to a large pitcher of water.
Too many ideas were streaming through Eynon’s head. He needed advice.
“What sorts of designs have other wizards selected?” he asked.
“I wondered if you’d ask me that,” said Damon. “Those books record the settings and stones for every wizard in Dâron for the past two hundred years.”
“The records go back that long?”
“They go back a good deal longer, but two hundred years is far enough for these purposes. If you choose the same design as a Master Mage from a thousand years ago, I’ll let you know.”
“I’m not likely to do anything like that,” said Eynon.
“Hah,” said Damon. “You’ve surprised me at every step in your training so far. Why would you stop now?”
Eynon recognized a rhetorical question and didn’t answer with anything more than a smile.
Damon reached over Eynon and pulled one of the leather-bound books in front of him.
“The volumes on the table show three different broad categories of designs,” said Damon. “I call them Animal, Vegetable, and Mineral. This one is Animal—take a look.”
Eynon opened the offered volume and grinned when he saw an illustration of a setting made from etched silver. It featured dozens of painted white cloisonné rabbits hopping away from a magnificent round blue magestone along four flat arms etched with knotwork.
A wide ring ornamented with more white cloisonné rabbits carrying books, staffs, swords, cakes and crossbows circled the four arms. The setting had more than a touch of whimsy. It made Eynon laugh, even though he knew a design of this sort wasn’t for him.
Other examples in the Animal book had illustrations of pairs of real or magical beasts supporting magestones, including lions, unicorns, and goats. Eynon thought they were unimaginative and didn’t want to consider what a wizard with goats on his or her setting was trying to prove. Might as well use a satyr, he though. He kept the book open to a page showing a gold setting with light blue wyverns entwined around a deep blue magestone and picked up the volume with Mineral on its spine.
This one wasn’t just minerals, though it did have many examples of crystals in different configurations. It also featured geometric shapes etched into metal or soldered onto it. None of the drawings resonated with Eynon, but he kept the book open to a fascinating picture of a rock egg filled with angled white crystals. The illustration called it a geode, and some wizard had used a slice from the egg’s center to mount a magestone.
Let’s see what the Vegetable book has to offer, thought Eynon. Maybe I’ll see the setting for the magestone I found at the crossroads? It has floral motifs worked in silver, he remembered.
As he paged through the drawings, Eynon felt more at home. He had grown up on a farm, after all, and appreciated the symmetry of many of the designs that featured plants. His hand involuntarily reached into his belt pouch for his new magestone. The gem felt reassuringly warm under his fingers. The magestone around his neck pulsed to remind Eynon of its presence.
While Damon puttered about the studio, Eynon looked at every illustration in the Vegetable book until he located the one he’d found at the crossroads. A small notation below the illustration gave the wizard’s name and location.
Fercha. Blue Spiral Tower, Rhuthro Valley.
Eynon had been so close—and now he was far away, though he wouldn’t know how far until he had a chance to visit the map room. At least he knew the name of the wizard who owned the artifact around his neck. He’d return it—as soon as he could get back to the Blue Spiral Tower, and Merry.
Sitting up straight and squaring his shoulders, Eynon went back to selecting a setting design for his red magestone. Instead of going with a variation another wizard’s setting, he and his new magestone decided on an original openwork design with lots of flowing curves. Eynon could see it clearly in his mind’s eye.
Flowers and vines covered the circular disk, surrounding his red magestone and reinforcing its capabilities with the life and beauty of the natural world. He could feel the blue magestone around his neck add its approval. Without conscious thought, Eynon’s hands picked up the wax carving tools and transferred the image he saw in his head to the wax over several hours.
When the carving was complete, Eynon was exhausted. Damon pushed a plate filled with dried meat and cheese toward him and Eynon ate like he hadn’t had a meal in days. With a knock on the door frame, Nûd appeared. He entered the artifact studio from the hall and offered Eynon more maple candy.
“Thank you,” said Eynon after he’d swallowed the sweet treat and consumed the dried meat and cheese. “Is it always like that?”
“No,” said
Damon. “You seem to do everything faster than most. The typical apprentice takes a few days to carve their setting.”
“You did it in a few hours,” said Nûd.
“It felt like a few months,” said Eynon. “Do you have any water?”
Nûd brought him a tall mug he filled at a sideboard. Eynon drained it and handed back the mug with a yawn and a sigh.
“Thank you. Can I sleep now?” Eynon asked. His eyelids were bars of lead.
“Not yet,” said Damon. “You have to prepare the mold and let it harden, so we can pour this afternoon.”
“What time is it?” Eynon asked.
“Not quite noon,” said Nûd.
“Let’s hurry,” said Eynon. He could tell his mind was fogged from his earlier effort. “I still have to cook something for lunch.”
“You’re eating cheese and wisent jerky for lunch today,” said Damon. “You can sleep as soon as you prep and pour the plaster.”
Eynon yawned. “Will you talk me through it?” he asked.
“Every step,” said Damon.
He guided the younger man down to the far end of the table where a flat wooden form two inches tall had joined the sack of white dust and pitcher of water.
“First, mix up the plaster.”
Nûd appeared at Damon’s elbow with a tall ceramic vessel halfway between a cup and a soup bowl and put it on the worktable. The older man helped Eynon combine the water with the fine white powder in the vessel. The older man handed Eynon a flat wooden stirrer and illustrated the motion needed to mix the ingredients properly. Eynon tried his best, despite his lack of energy, and stirred the mixture until it formed a thick slurry.
“This is like making mud pies when I was small,” said Eynon. “Except the mud is white, not brown.”
“It is at that,” said Damon. “Now pay attention—this is tricky.”
The Congruent Apprentice (The Congruent Mage Series Book 1) Page 28
