“We haven’t learned any rituals yet, though,” Andrew muttered in disappointment.
“Yet. But what about the full moon?” Christoff asked, glancing at the thoughtful-looking Emonael and at Marin.
“The full moon is a full circle, the symbol of eternity, of permanence . . . and it is also a grand mirror. Divinations and scrying spells are more powerful with a proper focus, and a mirror is one of the few ways of gaining an image of a person, so it aids in illusion as well.” Marin explained, her voice soft as she smiled. “For virtually any spell, save those that destroy, the full moon is a boon. Better yet, if you can manage to cast it when the full moon aligns with another date of power, such as either of the equinoxes or solstices, it grows still more powerful. All of this will be in the fifth volume, I believe.”
“The full moon is on Midwinter, which is the winter solstice . . . how would that affect things, if winter is the symbol of waning and death?” Uthar asked, looking at Marin in concern. “You were specifically asking about it, after all.”
“Yes, I was. A fair question, Uthar . . . I can’t begin to name all the uses for it, but in my case, I’m thinking in the terms of divinations,” Marin explained, smiling at them all. “Most people think of divination spells as allowing them to find things, see things, or the rare individuals who can predict the future in minor ways. Few of them think of scrying on the past. The winter full moon is ideal for that. I have some ideas for it, and no, I’m not sharing.”
“As you say, High Mage,” Uthar agreed, nodding slightly. “Thank you for indulging my curiosity.”
“I couldn’t care less on the scrying, Teacher! Not when you’re refusing to answer a simple question,” Emonael said flatly, leaning forward as she glared at Marin with narrowed eyes. “I just want to know if you’ve actually met a god!”
“That is the question you had, isn’t it?” Marin agreed, smiling in return, her eyes glittering as she met Emonael’s gaze. “Isn’t it unfortunate that I’m going to let you keep wondering?”
Andrew laughed nervously. “I . . . isn’t it a bit ridiculous to think that she met a god?”
“I’ve heard of it happening.” Uthar spoke softly, wiping the amusement from the faces of the others. “The gods sometimes choose to walk our world, aiding or destroying as the whim strikes them. It’s why I always treat lone strangers with respect.”
“A wise practice, that,” Marin agreed, taking a sip of her wine.
The room was quiet for a moment before Damiya stood and announced. “I think I’ll start on the dishes.”
“I’ll help,” Christoff offered hastily, and the two began to gather the dishes as Marin looked at Emonael, enjoying the uncharacteristic nervousness in her student’s gaze.
It amused her, somehow.
“Teacher, were you just trying to make me anxious earlier?” Emonael asked, looking into the library at Marin.
The others had all left for the night, after some grumbling due to the cold outside. Emonael wasn’t looking forward to the walk herself, but the company at the end would more than make up for that. More interesting right this moment was what Marin had hinted at. If Marin had the attention of a deity, that could make her life far more interesting than she would like.
“You aren’t going to let it go, are you?” Marin asked, turning in her chair, the last half dozen pages of the volume on the desk in front of her, as Emonael stepped into the room.
“Of course not! A deity could turn me into a thin red smear on the wall, Teacher!” Emonael protested, gesturing at one of the stone walls dramatically. “I may be fairly powerful for a demon, but deities are on a completely different level of power!”
“Of course they are. They’re gods. Demons are countless, yet the number of gods is limited, at least in theory,” Marin replied softly, leaning a shoulder into the back of her chair. “If they weren’t far more powerful, the demons would wipe them out, wouldn’t they?”
“That would require a far more coordinated effort from demons than I’ve ever seen indications of,” Emonael replied tartly. “You’re still avoiding the question, though.”
“Yes, I am, aren’t I?” Marin murmured, pausing for a long moment, then sighing and nodding slowly. “I have. Once for certain . . . possibly twice.”
“You . . . what do you mean, possibly twice? Who did you meet?” Emonael demanded.
“I told you that I was a healer. Once, I was going along with a mercenary band on the northern continent. It was before I met the Caravan of the Golden Moon,” Marin explained, her tone heavy. “The mercenaries called themselves the Unrivaled Knights. Apparently that somehow offended Zokar.”
The name of the god of war made Emonael flinch, but Marin didn’t stop, continuing softly. “A knight in simple armor approached us as we were on the road. He challenged Phillip, the leader of the Unrivaled Knights, with the name of the mercenaries on the line. Phillip agreed, planning to prove his own skill. Zokar destroyed him in a handful of blows, still posing as a simple knight. If they’d left it at that, the mercenaries would have survived, and Phillip would’ve lived. Instead, he called for help, and the rest of his band tried to mob the ‘knight’ who had offended them.”
“Oh. That can’t have ended well,” Emonael whispered, swallowing hard.
“It didn’t. Every last one of them died in front of me.” Marin said softly, her eyes distant. “When they were all dead, save Phillip, who I’d been healing . . . Zokar removed his helm and identified himself before beheading Phillip with a single blow. Then he looked at me and sneered, saying ‘Ah, a coward who cannot fight. Go, and tell the others what happens to those who pretend to have skill beyond their abilities.’ He left . . . and I did as he said. Then I went south, to escape the reputation of being cursed that his message brought me.”
“I . . . I see. And the other incident?” Emonael asked, shaken by the thought of how close Marin had come to death. She’d only seen a god from a distance once, and the devastation the woman had left in her wake still made Emonael nervous.
“It was when I realized I was over four hundred winters old. I went to a shrine of the Weaver of Magic,” Marin reminisced, shaking her head. “I was . . . losing faith. I was afraid that I was wasting my life like everyone else claimed. So I went there to pray to the goddess and ask if what I was doing was worthwhile. Not if I was right, mind . . . I just wanted to know that I wasn’t wasting my life. That was when a woman appeared . . . at the time I thought she might’ve just been a priestess who was tending to the shrine. She assured me that no attempt to understand magic was without value, and helped me regain the courage to continue onward. It was only later that I heard that no priestess tended that shrine, so . . . I have to wonder.”
“Oh. I suppose . . . there’s no way to know, is there?” Emonael murmured, relaxing slightly and smiling. “So even you lost faith once?”
“Of course I did. I’m only mortal,” Marin said. “Now, don’t you have someone waiting for you? I have work to do.”
“Thank you, Teacher. I’ll leave you be,” Emonael replied, smiling and giving Marin a curtsey before she left, closing the door gently behind her.
Through the door, she heard the faint sound of a quill on parchment before she left the building.
Chapter 20
Emonael was fairly certain that Marin thought she was hiding how much she enjoyed the company that the demon had brought into her life, but to the demon’s eyes it was incredibly obvious. It wasn’t the big things that revealed her attitude; it was the small reactions . . . though the thought that Marin had met a deity or two still worried Emonael, even if not as heavily as it initially had. No demon that she knew of would want to run into a deity. Maybe the more powerful demon lords would be willing to face one of the weaker gods, but that was far beyond her.
“No, that’s still too harsh! It needs to be dimmer!” Nia’s voice carried from one of the side rooms, and Emonael paused near the door, blinking as she heard Andrew.
“Then y
ou do it! I’m doing the best I can, but we haven’t learned much about these yet,” he retorted, obviously annoyed. “I’d like to see you do any better!”
“Maybe I will!” Nia replied, and began on a spell.
The sound of a spell was a bit too much, and Emonael sighed internally. She didn’t mind the minor rivalry between Andrew and Nia, not since it made the talented young woman have to actually try, but occasionally it drove the two into making foolish decisions. In this case, the two were experimenting in a room not designed for it, with spells they didn’t know the variables of, and that wasn’t something Emonael would allow in Marin’s tower.
“What do the two of you think you’re doing?” Emonael asked, stepping into the room and glowering at the two within.
Nia’s words trailed off mid-spell, and there was a faint sizzling sound as it dissipated. The young woman looked at Emonael with wide eyes. Andrew had a distinctly guilty look on his face and glanced at Nia as he swallowed.
The demon gave the two a moment, but when neither of them replied she crossed her arms and demanded. “Well? I’m still waiting for an answer from you two. I thought I heard something about the two of you experimenting with spells . . . and I believe that the craft room isn’t on the list of areas you’re allowed to do that.”
“It’s . . . it’s just . . .” Nia floundered.
“I was talking to Nia about our lessons, and how I was trying to read some from one of those books you gave us, but late at night the light looked too harsh,” Andrew interrupted, straightening as he looked back at Emonael nervously. “She suggested that maybe a dimmer light would help, and we were trying to figure out a light. I didn’t really think about it being an experiment . . . the first try, with just less mana, fizzled out.”
“That’s not true! I was the one who found the light too bright!” Nia protested, shaking her head. “There’s blame for both of us, not just you. I’m sorry, Emonael, I just didn’t think about it before suggesting a dimmer spell.”
“I see. Well, fortunately for both of you, I stepped in when I did. From the bits I caught of Nia’s spell, I suspect you would’ve set something on fire, possibly your hair,” Emonael replied dryly, unfolding her arms. “Marin would have been most displeased at the interruption, and I would’ve been unhappy as well.”
“O-oh, I’m . . . I’m sorry.” Nia’s eyes went wide.
“Damn, I didn’t think that was a possibility.” Andrew lowered his head and added, “I’ll accept any punishment you might have, Emonael. It was a mistake, and I’ll try not to repeat it.”
“I’m not going to punish the two of you. While you did make a mistake, no harm was done,” Emonael told them, smiling at their stunned expressions. “In fact, if I’m being honest, I’m happy to see that the two of you aren’t simply trying to use exactly what I’ve taught you, and are experimenting instead. This was what Marin wanted to begin with, remember . . . she wanted to see magic reach a point that this could happen. The thing to remember is that a spell variable can have an enormous impact on the result, so don’t experiment outside of a reinforced chamber or in an area where there are things you care about.”
“Thank you,” Andrew replied, looking incredibly relieved. Nia nodded.
“Yes, thank you very much. I’m not going to do that again, promise!” the redhead vowed.
“Good. Now, here’s how to cast a light spell that produces dimmer light,” Emonael told them, smiling as she gently coached the two through a version of the spell which would produce a dimmer crimson light.
As the two got it down, Nia suddenly sighed, looking at her hands and her excitement seeming to fade.
“Nia? Is something the matter?” Emonael asked, growing a bit more concerned as she looked at her student.
“It’s just . . . I’m learning so much from you, Emonael, you and the High Mage both. She’s producing incredible research that no one else has come even close to before this. But that’s the thing, she’s incredible, and it feels like no one will be able to match it,” Nia said, her voice soft. She looked up at Emonael, anxiousness in her eyes. “I want to become incredible myself. I’ve dreamed of becoming a legend, but with her, it seems like it’s an insurmountable goal.”
“Nia . . .” Andrew began, but his voice trailed off in uncertainty, and Emonael looked between the two, thinking as she tried to decide how to respond.
“How do you think the first person to face an enemy with a weapon felt? Or the first soldier to face a man with a forged blade? It must have been terrifying to them, for something like that was completely beyond their experience. Yet despite those early weapons being far beyond all others at the time, those were merely the first of their kind,” Emonael finally told them, sighing as she reached out and touched the yarn in one of the bins around the crafting room. “It doesn’t just apply to weapons. Yarn can hardly compare to the bolts of fine cloth that some weavers now produce. Marin knows that her research is, in many ways, just a starting point. It’s the foundation that others will build upon, Nia. Even more than that, there are other areas of magical research which she hasn’t touched, and admitted to me that each would be an immense project on their own.”
“What do you mean, other areas of research?” Andrew asked, looking confused.
“The five of you are still in the less advanced areas of her research, not even in the more impressive aspects, and while Marin has enough to work out the basis of how they work, there’s an immense field in which you could develop things. She knows the basics of summoning magic, for instance, but that magic could be improved upon,” the demon explained, finding a chair and settling down. “Beyond her research, she spoke of the dwarven art of enchanting with yearning, wishing she had the time to research it properly, and that doesn’t even begin to address the art of alchemy. The possibilities of what others can improve upon or research are immense. Don’t think that just because she’s managed to improve upon things that many thought were absolute that you cannot do the same. Life is change. Remember that.”
“There’s a dwarven art of enchanting?” Nia asked, her distress slowly melting away into curiosity.
Emonael laughed, grinning. “Yes, yes there is. It has something to do with runes . . . the little that Marin’s discussed with me, she suspects that the runes somehow are a physical form of the spells we trace in the air, but they’re also quite different in some ways. Now, I was on my way to fix lunch, so I’d best get going. Are the two of you coming, or are you going to go hungry before the lesson?”
“I’ll help!” Andrew said quickly, grinning broadly. “And . . . thank you, Emonael. Knowing that she isn’t all-knowing does help. It gives me hope.”
“Agreed!” Nia said, taking a deep breath and letting it out in a rush. “I thought there was no way I could ever do anything of note.”
“Realistically, it will be hard, but anything is possible,” Emonael agreed, standing and opening the door to escort the pair out of the room. She was quite glad they hadn’t damaged anything, since she was almost done with the dress that she’d been making for Marin’s midwinter gift, and would’ve been quite upset if they’d managed to damage it. Beyond that, she still had to copy the third volume of Marin’s research a half dozen more times.
Chapter 21
Appearing in the tower with a soft whump of air, Marin let out a breath of relief, feeling more drained than she had been in over a year, her stomach roiling with discomfort. Setting down the crate and pair of sacks she’d brought back with her, Marin allowed her strength-boosting spell to lapse with a sense of relief.
A part of Marin wanted to do nothing more than to walk into the library and collapse into her chair, but the rest of her knew better, and she muttered. “No, no . . . I need to put this away. If it manages to spoil after that trip, I have no one to blame but myself.”
She picked up the crate first, half-wishing she hadn’t allowed the strength spell to lapse, but she managed to carry it through the library without incident, easing open
the door to the kitchen and setting the crate on the counter. It was easier when she didn’t have to carry everything at once, but such was the price of teleportation. She headed back to the tower and picked up the other two sacks, taking them back and opening the pantry to get everything situated, carefully arranging them.
As she was closing the pantry, she heard the front door unlock, and a few moments later Emonael’s voice echoed through the building. “Teacher? Is that you?”
“Yes, Emonael. I just barely got back. You have interesting timing.” Marin replied, smiling slightly, then shivering as she realized that while the tower was warmer than she’d left it, she was still dressed for the climate she’d been visiting.
Her apprentice turned the corner, and Emonael’s eyes narrowed as she sniffed, looking Marin over critically. “That’s a rather thin set of robes, Teacher. Coupled with the smell of what I swear are tropical flowers . . . just where did you go? I know you said you were leaving for a couple of days, but I’m guessing you went rather farther afield than I expected.”
“I was checking on an old friend who lived in the Isles of Saiden. He unfortunately passed away a few years ago, but his children are alive and well, and they welcomed me.” Marin replied, smiling sadly as she shook her head. “That’s four that may still be among the living. Still, at least Jace managed to live out his life doing what he loved. He had the talent to be a master of alchemy, but he used it exclusively to make better alcohol.”
“The Isles of Saiden? They’re nearly . . . a thousand miles to our south! That’s normally nearly a month’s travel one way, and you were only gone for about four days!” Emonael replied, looking at Marin in disbelief. “What possessed you to go that far this time? And how?”
Marin's Codex Page 18
