Marin's Codex

by Benjamin Medrano

  “I’ve been doing something similar, as I started dabbling in healing magic, but I hadn’t focused on that part, instead trying to get used to the casting style with magic I knew well,” Reesa added, her tone speculative as she tapped her lips, frowning as she glanced around the table. “I see that may have been a mistake. Still, it’s one I can correct. Considering things . . . I think it may be best for all of us to come to terms with the fact that the generations of magi who grow up utilizing what Marin has discovered may end up far more . . . diverse of casters than we are.”

  “That irritates me, but I may have to get used to it,” Hothar growled, shaking his head angrily.

  “I think all of you are slightly overstating the issue,” Marin replied, her voice mild, feeling faintly annoyed she’d been called away from continuing her writing for this.

  “How so? If anyone can cast any kind of spell, and alter them at will, it’s going to completely upend magic across the entire continent, if not the world!” Hothar said, his eyes narrowing. “How are we overstating the issue?”

  “Because you’re assuming they can memorize all of those spells flawlessly. I have a near-perfect memory, and I can’t do that. I have thousands of volumes of notes and spells, Hothar,” Marin told him, shaking her head. “At a certain point, magi are going to simply memorize the spells they use the most, while the rest they’ll record in a book or such, to pull out and reference when they need to cast the spell. Unless you expect your average mage to be carting around an entire library, you’re overstating how much flexibility they’ll end up with.”

  “That is an excellent point,” Reesa agreed, nodding as she did so. “I know that I have perhaps two dozen spells that I use frequently, and I know how to modify a few of them to have different effects, but nothing too extravagant. I do have others written down for when I need them.”

  Hothar hesitated only a moment before nodding and relaxing slightly. “I think I see what you mean. But what about those handful of magi who do manage to learn hundreds of types of spells? You know they’re going to exist, and that they’re going to scare the daylights out of everyone else.”

  “I imagine they’re going to be exceedingly rare, but you’re right. We should just try to become them ourselves,” Valis said, the fire mage grinning as he shrugged. “What we’ll call them is another question.”

  “We already have a term for them, do we not?” Marin asked, and blinked at all of them as they looked at her.

  “What term would that be?” Hothar asked, tilting his head.

  “You’re saying that they’re going to end up being more powerful than anyone else. Well, the title of Archmage has always been reserved for those magi who put even High Magi to shame, has it not?” Marin asked, shrugging. “I think that it’ll fit for magi who manage to reach such incredible heights.”

  “That seems reasonable, though we’ll see what ends up happening,” Hothar agreed. “I suppose I owe you an apology, Marin. I—”

  A sudden crash from downstairs interrupted, and the man scowled, standing up as he asked. “What in all the blazes was that?”

  Marin sighed, standing and following the other High Magi out of the room, part of her fully expecting to find Emonael in the middle of whatever problem had cropped up now. A sudden peal of thunder made her wince, and she quickened her pace.

  Emonael couldn’t really blame most magi for not being good cooks. Most of them were constantly practicing to become more powerful casters, and didn’t spare the time for pursuits like cooking. That was a good part of why the dining rooms of the Association were so popular, she imagined.

  There were three separate dining rooms, one a smaller, private affair for the full magi of the Association, and two for the apprentices. Despite that, the private dining room was often full enough that full magi would actually join the students in the regular dining rooms, and sometimes they’d even have quiet lessons with their apprentices over a meal as well. The café was popular as well, but the dining room was free, which made a major difference.

  The food that the Association supplied wasn’t the best Emonael had ever had, either. Each day, they made massive batches of food for breakfast, luncheon, and supper, and the cooks didn’t take requests for special treatment, no matter how many demands several of the noble apprentices made. The food was reasonably flavorful, and there was plenty of it, but the cooks definitely weren’t trying to make it visually appealing. It was yet another reason that Emonael was grateful that Marin had a kitchen in her tower, as she liked having some nicer meals on occasion, and the nearby town wasn’t home to any skilled chefs. The café was tolerable, though not great.

  Still, today the dining room she was in was particularly crowded, and Emonael couldn’t help but shake her head in amusement. “It seems like it’s a little bit busier than I’d expected. I thought that mid-morning would be fairly quiet!”

  Uthar paused, swallowing the food he’d just eaten before speaking. “A merchant caravan came into town yesterday and took all of the available inn space, and will be here for a day or two. They’re swamping the local taverns and the like, so all the apprentices and magi who normally eat elsewhere have been coming back here.”

  “How do you know that, Uthar?” Andrew asked, sitting back in his chair, having practically inhaled his food, he’d eaten so quickly.

  “I supplement my stipend by going into town at night and performing at some of the local inns,” the bard replied, shrugging as he smiled. “I don’t get much, but I don’t generally have to pay for my drinks, so bit by bit it adds up. I also hear a lot of interesting things in inns, with all the travelers that pass through.”

  “Ha! You hear that? The idiot is still performing for drinks!” a man at another table near theirs laughed loudly, cutting off Nia’s reply before she could really start. “What kind of mage does that?”

  “Shut up, it’s none of your business!” Andrew retorted, sitting up and scowling at the elf and his friends.

  “Why should I? It’s people like him that drag the reputation of Pharos and our magi through the mud!” the man replied, and as he did, Emonael watched him with slightly narrowed eyes. His clothing was finely made, and his fingers were soft and without calluses, which told her he was probably a noble. “You’re what, a human serf? You don’t even have the lifespan to really become a powerful mage, so you should just run back home. That way you can die in the place you should be in. That’s what humans do after all. They die.”

  “I’d rather be a short-lived human than a pointy-eared prick like you!” Andrew retorted, and the fair-haired noble’s eyes darkened in anger.

  “Andrew, that’s going a little—” Nia began hesitantly, only to be interrupted by a crash as the noble tipped the table he was at onto its side, sending dishes clattering to the floor as he stood, glaring. The entire room quieted as people began paying attention to him.

  “Why, you little human brat! I’m going to turn you into mincemeat and make you into a pie!” the elf yelled, his fingers dancing through a flamboyant spell, wreathing his hands in flames.

  Emonael didn’t rise, but decided that the debacle had gone quite far enough. She murmured her own spell, lazily gesturing over and ripping the noble’s spell apart, causing it to sizzle and die as he looked at his hands in shock. Still, it looked like he wasn’t going to let it go, so she cast another spell, this one quite short, and snapped her fingers.

  A peal of thunder echoed through the room, stunning everyone, and Emonael finally stood, her voice cutting the air as she spoke. “That is quite enough of that. Andrew, I’m disappointed in you. You shouldn’t attempt to debate the ignorant, all they do is bludgeon you with their stupidity as they drag you down to their level.”

  “How dare you? Do you have any idea who—” the noble began angrily, and Emonael turned toward him, crossing her arms.

  “No, I don’t. I also don’t care who you are,” Emonael told him bluntly, staring the young man in the eyes. “However, I do believe in giving
you an education in how ignorant you are.”

  The doors to the room opened, and Emonael saw the five High Magi about to enter, but she didn’t stop, continuing while the eyes of the dozens of other magi and students were focused on her. “Archmage Ode Stormtower was a human, and he defeated the sea serpent invasion of the northern realms some two and a half centuries ago. High Magister Lorden Millerson was a master of music and illusion that awed courts for nearly fifty years, and was so skilled that he gained an audience with Kimara, god of the arts, and was personally blessed by the deity. The Golden Empress of the East rules Monath without question. Those are merely three out of hundreds of examples of powerful human magi. Humans tend to have a drive to succeed now, rather than to waste vast portions of their lives like elves do, simply because they have time.”

  The nobleman looked like he was going to argue, but Valis spoke first, his voice ringing out loudly. “Excellently put, Emonael. I must admit that I’m uncertain what caused this discussion, but the commotion was quite audible in the conference room upstairs. May I ask what in the name of the gods is going on here?”

  “High Magi! I was just—” the noble began, only for Valis to raise a hand, shaking his head.

  “No, Lord Imtep, I’m not asking you. I’m asking Emonael what’s going on here,” the High Mage interrupted, looking at Emonael curiously.

  “My fellow apprentices and I were taking an early lunch before training, and were discussing how Uthar spent his evenings at the local taverns, keeping up his talents with music. Lord . . . Imtep chose to interrupt and disparage his choice of activities. Andrew spoke in Uthar’s defense, at which point Lord Imtep insulted him and humans in general. Andrew insulted him in return, at which point the Lord flipped over his table and attempted to cast a fire spell of some variety,” Emonael replied briskly, folding her hands in front of her as she continued. “I chose that point to step in, shredding Lord Imtep’s spell, then causing a peal of thunder when it appeared he was going to continue. You arrived about that point, High Mage.”

  “I see. And was this an accurate summary?” Valis asked, looking around the room at the other magi present.

  It took a moment, but one of the other magi stepped forward, clearing her throat before speaking. “Her explanation was perhaps mildly simplified, High Mage, but the essentials are accurate.”

  “Thank you, Lady Olicia,” Valis told her, and looked at his fellow High Magi with a curious look that Emonael knew far too well. She saw the look of boredom in Marin’s eyes, as well as the annoyed glance Larin gave him, but in the end, Hothar stepped forward.

  “I daresay this has been the largest disruption of this nature since the Association was formed, so we’d best nip this in the bud now. There will be no consequences for this incident, save that you must pay for the damage you caused to the dining hall, Lord Imtep.” Hothar spoke loudly, looking around the room with a serious gaze. “Now, the Association was formed to allow magi to share their magic and resources more easily, as well as to allow them to find apprentices more easily as well. As such, we have no tolerance for those who would attempt to drive out other members of the Association. If you do not like an individual, ignore them. If you cannot stand them being in the Association, leave if that’s what’s necessary. We’ll expel those who cannot understand this simple aspect of courtesy. We won’t force you to associate with one another, because that isn’t what we formed the Association for. We’re a community, not a guild or military force. Is that clear?”

  A chorus of affirmatives rumbled through the room, while others nodded. Hothar nodded and looked at Lord Imtep evenly. The young lord nodded grudgingly, speaking aloud even as he gave Emonael a poisonous glare. “Fair enough, High Mage. I will endeavor to act accordingly, and thank you for your leniency.”

  “Good,” Hothar said, and turned to leave. All of the High Magi left, save Marin and Valis, who made their way over to Emonael’s table.

  While they moved, the dining hall began regaining a semblance of its prior self. A couple of his friends helped the young lord right the table, while a frowning servant came to clean up the mess.

  “How did I know you were going to be in the middle of that commotion, Emonael?” Marin asked, giving her a patronizing look.

  “It wasn’t my fault, Teacher! I didn’t even say anything until things started getting out of hand, and I stopped a fight from actually breaking out!” Emonael protested, slowly sitting back down.

  “She has a point, Marin. Something like this was inevitable eventually, and I’m glad that the first incident was so low-key in the end. I’ve been afraid that two magi would decide to get in an argument in the middle of the night, then leave the entire building a pile of rubble before anyone could step in,” Valis added, smiling. All of them were ignoring the others at nearby tables that were shamelessly eavesdropping. “For that you have my thanks, Emonael.”

  “You’re welcome,” Emonael told him, giving a gentle smile in return.

  “While I can agree that you did well, it still remains that you were in the middle of it,” Marin said, shaking her head as she eased into a chair. “Not that I blame you in the slightest. I’ve known a great many powerful magi of various species, and some are even shorter-lived than humans. Never underestimate the power of ambition. Now, I had another matter to briefly speak on . . . but first, I don’t believe that all of your students have met Valis before?”

  “No, they haven’t,” Emonael agreed, nodding to Valis as she grinned, then looked around the large table, noting the nervous gazes of most of her students. “You’ve met Christoff and Damiya, of course, so they don’t need introductions. Andrew Tanner, Nia Quickfoot, and Uthar Songmaster are my other students. This is High Mage Valis Firestorm, a rather generous man so long as you’re polite to him.”

  “I suppose that’s a kind way to put it,” Valis murmured, smiling broadly. “It’s a pleasure to meet all of you. I’ve heard interesting things about the progress you’ve made so far.”

  “Thank you, High Mage, but I think we’ve had an excellent teacher,” Uthar said, bowing his head slightly.

  “That you have. A better one than I would be, if I’m being honest,” Marin added, giving Emonael a look as she continued. “I don’t have anywhere near the patience that Emonael has when teaching. I’m too much of a perfectionist. Which is what brings me to the little matter which came up in our meeting.”

  “Oh? What might that be?” Emonael asked warily, not trusting her teacher’s tone.

  “It was brought up that your skill with magic definitely outstrips that of a mere apprentice, at which point I agreed, and said that you could be viewed as a full magister or master mage in most nations,” Marin explained, shrugging. “I know that I’m never going to have the time or patience to come up with trials to properly test you, and we both know those are merely formalities anyway, so I thought I’d offer to release you from your apprenticeship as a full Master Mage.”

  Gasps came from around the table, and even Valis looked at Marin in astonishment, taking a moment before he protested. “Marin, isn’t that going just a little far? She hasn’t been here for that long, so releasing her from an apprenticeship so quickly . . .”

  “An apprenticeship is for an elder mage to guide a younger mage through the basics. Whether that takes the apprentice two days or two centuries, it doesn’t matter,” Marin told him, shaking her head. “Emonael has reached that point, and passed it. She spends a great deal of her free time poring over my old journals when she thinks I’m not looking, learning what she can without me needing to teach her.”

  “That being said, I will have to refuse, Teacher,” Emonael calmly interrupted, shaking her head firmly. “I do appreciate it, but I feel that at this point it would be somewhat too soon. I may be skilled enough by the standards of most to be considered a full magister, but there is far, far too much you still have to teach me before I can consider myself properly trained. I’m still only teaching the basics to my own students, after all
!”

  “That’s the basics?” Nia murmured, her eyes going wide. “But I thought we were doing well!”

  “You are doing well,” Emonael told her, shaking her head. “You also are only getting started. Don’t worry, I’m not going to overwhelm you . . . if nothing else, because Marin can’t write her books fast enough for that to happen. Speaking of which, when will the next book be done?”

  “I’m not sure . . . likely in about two weeks,” Marin replied, her voice thoughtful. “I got started on it, but I keep getting interrupted by meetings.”

  “Be as that may, considering the offer, shouldn’t we at least celebrate the occasion, Emonael?” Christoff finally chimed in, grinning as he asked. “Uthar? What did that merchant caravan bring to town?”

  “Ah, some textiles and other clothing, some magical crystals for the Association, and a lot of other trade goods,” Uthar replied, blinking in surprise.

  “That could be fun . . . and I do have some pocket money left,” Emonael admitted, prompting a giggle from Damiya.

  “Of course you do! You never go out to spend it, because you’re always busy!” the woman chided.

  “It sounds like you’re going out, whether you like it or not.” Marin said, nodding as she stood again. “Why don’t you drop by the tower when you’re getting ready to go? I’d like you to look for a couple of things while you’re in town.”

  “I . . . of course, Teacher. I’ll see you later.” Emonael laughed, resigning herself to not getting too much done that day. But with that in mind . . . she looked at the others and asked, “Are you all done? The sooner we get your training for the day done, the sooner we can go to town.”

  They immediately began to eat quickly, making Emonael smile and shake her head. Sometimes it was the little things that mattered.

  Chapter 17

  Normally, Maple Lake was a sleepy town, though larger than many Emonael had visited on her way to the Association the first time. Obvious signs of growth pervaded it due to the proximity of the magi, as the dozen businesses grew to double that number, but the main product the town was known for was the maple syrup from the trees they were named for. In time, that might be eclipsed due to the Association, but Emonael wasn’t going to hold her breath for that to happen.