The Seventh Stone: A Novel in the Alastair Stone Chronicles

by R. L. King

  Ian idly stroked the cat’s head, but his attention was on Stone. “You have to understand, it’s a lot to take in. I still don’t really understand it. Hell, I’m still not sure I believe it. I halfway thought I’d call you today and you’d call back asking me what the hell I was talking about.”

  “That happens a lot,” Stone said with a chuckle. “Mundanes—and those who have magical abilities but don’t realize it—have quite a bit of trouble accepting the magical world at first. Of course they do, since they’ve been trained their entire lives to consider it the province of children’s games and fantasy films.”

  “So…there’s a magical ‘world’? Elves and fairies and werewolves and vampires and all that, just like in the books?”

  “Not…exactly. Some of those things do exist, but they’re much rarer than you might expect. Mostly, it’s just humans and a few odd magical creatures who mostly keep to themselves and don’t interact with our society—magical or mundane.”

  “So ‘mundane’ means normal human?”

  “Exactly.”

  “And magicians—wizards—what do you call yourself?”

  “I use ‘mage.’ Some prefer ‘witch.’ I don’t think I’ve ever heard a real mage call him- or herself a ‘wizard.’”

  “Mages.” He tried out the word. “So do they have some kind of secret society? I read a book once when I was a kid about a detective who was a wizard, and they had all kinds of rules, and a council, and that kind of thing. I liked that book—until Bobby decided it was blasphemous and tossed it in the fireplace.”

  Once again, Stone felt a twinge of anger at Ian’s stepfather, and even at Jessamy for subjecting his son to such treatment. That wasn’t the issue right now, though. Instead, he chuckled again. “No, it doesn’t work like that in real life. We do have a society of sorts, but it’s very loosely based. No meetings, rules, or authorities. There aren’t that many of us, and we’re fairly widely spread out, so it wouldn’t be practical.”

  Ian’s brow furrowed. “So…you can just do whatever you want? Hurt people if they don’t do what you say? Even kill them?”

  Of course the boy would go there, given his dark upbringing. “Well…yes,” he said, reluctantly. “But naturally it’s frowned on, and depending on who the victim’s friends were, too much of that could cause nasty problems down the road.”

  “Okay.” Ian nodded, taking it in. “That makes sense. And it’s not like I’d want to go around hurting people. So there’s no laws against just telling people—mundanes—about magic? I could go out tomorrow and just start telling whoever I wanted?”

  “You could. But I can’t imagine why you’d want to.”

  “Why not?”

  “Well…if you just told them without showing them anything, they’d probably think you were a nutter. And if you did show them something—they might believe you, yes. But they still might think you were mental—or they were—and you’d likely cause yourself problems you didn’t want to deal with. That, and secrecy is one of the few things mages do take seriously enough to enforce. It might take a while, but if you go out into the mundane world showing off your powers, it wouldn’t take long before someone turned up to show you why that was a bad idea.”

  Once again, Ian nodded. “Makes sense.” He stroked Raider again, looking away. “So you’re serious—you can teach me this?”

  “I can, and probably fairly easily. When I examined you, you showed an impressive amount of potential. That didn’t surprise me, of course.”

  “Why is that?”

  “As I told you, our family is one of the oldest and most powerful around. Magic power passes along gender lines, but it’s usually spotty. It can skip generations, and it often dilutes as it goes. You can usually never predict whether a child will inherit the Talent, and to what degree. Our family, and some of the other older ones, are different, though. They breed true, and the power level remains high throughout.”

  “What’s different about us? Why does it work that way?”

  “No idea. I wish I did know, but I don’t. Nobody does, at least not anymore. All I know is that, with proper training, you should end up as a powerful practitioner. If you want to, of course.”

  Ian’s gaze came up from where he’d been looking at Raider. “Why wouldn’t I want to? If you’re serious that I can learn this stuff, it sounds amazing.”

  “Oh, it is. No doubt about it. But I want to make sure you understand all the implications before you begin. It’s a fairly significant commitment you’d be making, and you need to know what you’re getting yourself into.”

  Ian grinned. “Don’t tell me, let me guess: I need to pledge myself to you, sign some kind of blood oath, promise you my firstborn child, and agree that if I break your rules, you can send me off to another dimension or something.”

  “You’ve been reading too many bad horror novels.” Stone mirrored the grin. “That all sounds suitably macabre, I’ll admit, but…no. I do ask that you make a commitment to follow my rules with regard to your magical training, the same as I do with any of my apprentices, but that’s standard. There aren’t any oaths or blood pacts or rituals involved. You’re my son—your word is good enough for me.” He got up and began pacing. “And if you decide going forward that my training style doesn’t work for you—either because of our relationship or because you discover your magic takes you in different directions—I’ll find you someone else who fits better.”

  Ian’s grin disappeared, and his brow furrowed. He appeared troubled about something, his aura shifting uncomfortably, and then he met Stone’s gaze again. “That’s…it?”

  “You sound disappointed. I mean, I can whip up some sort of impressive-looking contract for you if you like, but it’s hardly necessary. And if you think it will help, I can have you talk with my former apprentice. She can tell you what studying with me is like. You can ask her all the hard questions you don’t want to ask me.”

  “I’d…like that, yeah. But I can do it later. I want to get started. When can we do that?”

  Ian’s enthusiasm warmed Stone, and he couldn’t help entertaining thoughts of what a joy it would be to train someone with his son’s potential. He still couldn’t quite believe that the Universe had dropped such an opportunity into his lap. “Right away. Tonight, if you’re feeling up to it. If you can stay for a couple of hours, I think I can teach you a basic skill or two, and then you can practice them on your own time.”

  “Sounds good. So…is this a full-time thing? Will I be studying all day? If I stay up here, I’ll need to find a job.”

  “That’s up to you. I do have my work at the University, so we’ll have to schedule around that. But there’s no need for you to work if you don’t want to. Normally, masters take responsibility for their apprentices’ needs. You can either move in here if you prefer, or find a place somewhere nearby. I’ll take care of your rent and other necessities, and set up an account you can use for whatever else you might need.”

  Ian’s eyes narrowed. “That’s standard? Are all magical—uh—masters—rich?”

  “No. Different people set up different arrangements, depending on their means. But don’t worry—this isn’t a hardship for me. And besides, you’re my son, and I feel I owe you quite a lot of catching up, support-wise. You can get a job if you want to, but it’s not a necessity. As long as you keep up your studies, you’ll be fine.”

  “Okay. I’ll think about it. It might feel strange for me not to do something. I don’t want to be a freeloader.”

  “I had this same conversation with Verity—she’s my previous apprentice. I didn’t get anywhere with her, either. Stubborn lot, we mages. Anyway, we can discuss that later. For now, let’s get you started. Come with me.”

  Ian’s curiosity was easy to spot in his aura as he followed Stone upstairs to the attic. When they reached the top of the stairs, Stone opened the door, lit the sconces with a flick of his power, and stood aside. “This is my magical workroom. We’ll be spending quite a lot of
time here during our sessions.”

  Ian stopped, staring. “Wow,” he said after a pause. “That’s…impressive. And a little creepy. In a good way,” he added quickly.

  It was the reaction Stone had been expecting. Even though he was familiar by now with the new workroom, he still knew what kind of impression it was likely to make on someone unaccustomed to magic. From behind Ian, he took in the slate floor and inlaid circle, the bookshelves lining the walls, the work table off to the side covered in books and papers, and the flickering sconces, trying to see them through his son’s eyes. “Impressive” and “creepy” were two entirely appropriate adjectives.

  “This is where we’ll be doing most of our studies. The area is warded, so if anything gets away from us, it won’t cause trouble with the rest of the house—or the neighborhood.”

  “Warded?”

  “It means it’s got magical barriers around it, designed to hide it from prying eyes and keep it safe from wayward castings—either coming in or going out. I’ll teach you how to cast wards, but not yet. They can be tricky, so you’ll need some grounding first.”

  Ian frowned for a second, but then nodded. “Got it—I think.” He gave a wry grin. “Hell, who am I kidding? I don’t have any of this—not yet, anyway. I still feel like I’m having some kind of extra-realistic dream.”

  “That will change.” Stone waved his hand and dragged a pair of wooden chairs across the floor, arranging them so they faced each other. “Have a seat. The first thing I’m going to teach you is a thing we call magical sight. It was the first thing I learned from my master, and probably the easiest one to get through to a new student.”

  “Magical sight?” Ian took the indicated seat, looking thoughtful.

  “Yes. It’s—a special way mages can see the world. It allows you to see the auras that surround living things, as well as the lines of magic that make up the world. Once you master it, you’ll be able to pick up a lot of things about people, both magical and mundane. It will also help you spot whether a person or location has magic active on them—for example, if it’s warded, or if the person is wearing a magical talisman or has performed magic recently.”

  “So I’ll be able to pick mages out of a crowd? If that’s true, then why couldn’t you tell right away that I was one?”

  “Because you’re not one—not yet. You have the potential to be one, but for now you read as a mundane. But in any case, mages can’t just pick other mages out of a crowd. If the mage hasn’t been using his or her power recently, or doesn’t have something active like a glamour or an illusion, they don’t look any different with magical sight than every other mundane around.”

  “Got it. Okay, then—let’s get started.” He leaned forward in anticipation.

  Once again, a swell of pride rose in Stone—a thrill of excitement. This was it—the beginning of his son’s magical training.

  His son.

  He thought for a moment, as he took a few deep breaths and made his preparations, about how easily he’d accepted the idea that he had a nineteen-year-old son, once his magical test had confirmed the relationship. He hadn’t known anything at all about Ian a week ago—hadn’t even suspected it might be possible, let alone a reality—and now, he’d already incorporated it into his worldview as if it had been true all along. That surprised him when it occurred to him earlier that evening, as it had several other times over the last couple days.

  In all his life, he’d never thought of himself as a father. He knew he’d eventually have to remedy that, sure, but he suspected he’d be rubbish at it. That was one of the main reasons he’d never pursued it. Well, that and his inability to maintain a conventional relationship with a woman for longer than a few months, of course. He didn’t like small children or babies. He had little patience for them, and no interest in slowing down the breakneck pace of his mind to accommodate a child’s slower and more domestic needs. It didn’t make him feel good about himself, but he was nothing if not a realist. He’d always been convinced that when the time came for him finally to produce an heir, it would probably go a lot like it had with his own father: he’d be financially generous but emotionally distant, making sure the child had every material thing and opportunity he could offer, but leaving most of its day-to-day raising to either its mother—if she was interested—or a carefully vetted and highly paid nanny, if she wasn’t. He couldn’t see himself ever getting down on the floor to play with toys, or singing silly songs, or offering ‘horsey rides’ to a giggling toddler. The thought of changing diapers, spooning some messy mush into a tiny, reluctant mouth, or trying to calm a screaming baby having a meltdown filled him with dread, disgust, and—if he were being completely honest with himself—a sense of profound inadequacy.

  His father had never done any of those things, and he’d turned out all right.

  Well, mostly, anyway.

  But now, he had a chance to have a child without having to deal with all those unpleasant bits from the early years. Sure, it would take some adjustment, but that was fine. This kind of adjustment, Stone understood. And once he’d begun teaching Ian magic, he was sure the bond between the two of them would flourish. He could be patient.

  “Right, then,” he said briskly. “Magical sight.”

  He launched into an abbreviated version of his usual lecture, describing what auras were, their purpose, and what they looked like, followed by a brief explanation of the process for viewing them. “It’s one of the more basic skills you’ll need before you can start studying magic in earnest—sort of a building block for a lot of other things.” He chuckled. “You’ll probably count yourself lucky, later on—you’re my third apprentice, and you’re getting the benefit of quite a number of things I’ve learned with the first two. I used to load them down with all sorts of research and reading before we even got started. That was how my master taught me. But times are different now, and I’ve found new apprentices prefer a more practical approach.”

  “I guess I should be grateful for that,” Ian said with a wry smile. “I’ve never been much for dry reading.”

  “Go on, then—give it a try.”

  He didn’t, not right away. Instead, he studied Stone with an odd, contemplative look. “You’ve had three apprentices already?”

  Stone tensed. If he’d had the conversation to do over again, he wouldn’t have mentioned that, but now it was out there and he couldn’t take it back. “Well, yes, counting you. And the first one—he…er…didn’t work out.”

  “Didn’t work out? How so?”

  “I’ll tell you later. For now, let’s get you started. Believe me, I’ve dealt with enough beginning magic students, especially ones from mundane backgrounds, to know it’s not truly ‘real’ until they experience it themselves. I want you to have that moment tonight.”

  “Yeah, okay.” Ian settled back in the chair, relaxed, with one arm draped over the back. He fixed his gaze on Stone.

  “Don’t concentrate too hard, or you won’t get it. It shouldn’t be stressful. Just let your vision fuzz out, and try to focus on my essence, not my physical body.”

  He watched Ian, shifting to magical sight himself to monitor his aura. The silver-and-purple nimbus glowed with anticipation.

  A minute passed, and then two.

  Ian unhooked his arm from over the chair back and leaned forward, the tension in his posture growing.

  “It’s all right,” Stone murmured. “Don’t worry if it doesn’t come right away. It takes a bit of time to get it, but once you do, it will be easier the next time.”

  Ian stared at him even more intently, his clear, gray eyes wide with concentration. After another minute, he let his breath out and shook his head. “I don’t see anything.”

  “Nothing at all? It might be a bit subtle at first, since you don’t know what you’re looking for. Just take a few deep breaths and relax. As I said, this shouldn’t be causing you distress. Look for a sort of glowing outline.”

  Ian did as requested, leaning into
the chair and closing his eyes as he drew several long breaths. Then he opened his eyes again and resumed his intent study of Stone.

  Stone remained still so as not to distract him, but inwardly his concern grew with each passing minute. It shouldn’t be taking this long for him to get anything. Magical sight was one of the easiest skills to teach a new mage, because it required little in the way of magical talent or power expenditure. Even black mages, who normally had to take power from other living beings, could do it using only their own power—and Ian wasn’t a black mage. All it required was learning to see the world from a different perspective.

  More time passed, and Ian’s shoulders slumped. Finally, he spread his hands and sighed. “Nothing. I don’t see a damned thing. Are you sure there isn’t something you forgot to tell me?”

  “I’m sure. It’s all right—some take longer than others. Take a little break while I give this some thought.”

  Stone rose from his chair and paced the room, turning away so Ian couldn’t see his face. He had no idea why this was proving so difficult for the boy. At Ian’s power level, Stone wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d reported spontaneous aura sightings at earlier points in his life. That happened sometimes, with mages who had a lot of potential. It had happened to him when he was fourteen—that had been what had given him the idea to start trying to study magic on his own, several years before his formal apprenticeship was to begin. Ian should have had trouble not seeing auras.

  Both Verity and Ethan had picked up the skill almost instantly, with only a few minutes of instruction. Verity’s power level was high but nowhere close to Ian’s potential, and Ethan’s talent had been serviceable but not remarkable.

  Why wasn’t Ian getting it?

  “Okay,” he said at last, after a few more minutes. “Let’s try it again. Perhaps you’re getting concerned because it’s not coming easily, and that’s making it more difficult. Trust me: it’s not something you can force. It’s like trying to see something out of the corner of your eye—you have to relax and let it happen. If you turn your head and focus on it, it will disappear. Does that make sense?”