He imagined how things would have gone when he was ambushed if he had been capable of using the wind-wall spell at the time, and an evil grin spread across his face. Of course, I’d have wound up killing most of them instead of just one, he realized. Still, he had to learn it.
His mind was made up, and he spent the rest of his time before bed practicing the wind-wall spell construct, though he didn’t dare actually cast the spell in his room. He also decided he needed to make some elixirs of turyn of his own. In a combat situation he might not be able to afford a few minutes to recover after using the spell, and using Arrogan’s old elixirs was less efficient.
He fell asleep with a smile on his face.
Chapter 32
Will was glad for the weekend, since he was able to sleep an hour later, but he still had a lot to accomplish. He started by dressing and arming himself. Remi’s wrist sheaths seemed imminently practical, so he wore those and made sure the knives that came with them were properly sharpened. Then he put on his brigandine and covered it all with his one undamaged tunic. He was quickly running out of clothes, but he intended to remedy that.
Once he was dressed, he spent half an hour practicing the wind-wall spell construct, though its complexity made him despair of ever being able to reflex cast it. When he was almost done, he summoned the limnthal and asked Arrogan a question. “There are so many spells to learn. How many did you manage to get good enough to reflex cast them?”
“What’s that?” asked the ring.
“A spell you can cast without thinking about it.”
“Oh! We called those instinctive spells in my day,” said Arrogan. “To answer your question, I have no idea. I never counted them, but it was quite a few.”
“How much is a lot?”
“Hundreds.”
“Hundreds?” Will was stunned. “How could you possibly get that good at so many?”
“When you live for several centuries, it just happens.”
“But how do you remember them all?”
“You don’t. That’s the whole point. By the time you can instinctively cast a spell, you don’t remember it anymore. It just happens. That’s one reason for recording them in books. If I had to teach you a spell that I had learned to reflex cast, I’d have to look it up.”
“That makes no sense. Don’t you have to have it memorized to be able to cast it that way?”
“It isn’t a matter of memory or knowledge. It’s similar to learning to juggle. Once you learn, you never forget; your hands just move on their own. If you tried to think about what each hand was doing, when to catch, when to throw, you’d fail. Instinctive casting is the same, except it isn’t matter of muscles, it’s a memory engraved in your soul. Live long enough and every spell you use often will become a matter of instinct.”
Will frowned. “What about combat spells? You can’t use most of them in a practical manner if you have to slowly construct them, but you can’t get good enough to cast them that way unless you cast them often. Do you just have to practice them continually?”
“Practice is best for spells like that,” agreed the ring. “But you can still use them in combat, you just have to prepare the spell ahead of time.”
“Huh?”
“Construct it and hold it until you need it.”
“No one ever mentioned that,” said Will. “How do you do it?”
“I would have taught you that from the beginning. What are your instructors doing?”
“Well, they don’t teach combat magic to begin with,” Will reminded him.
“I suppose that makes sense. There’s no point in worrying about it if you never intend to really use magic on a regular basis, much less quickly. Still, it isn’t a separate skill. It’s just a matter of preparation. Unlike instinctive casting, the strength of both your will and memory are important if you expect to hold more than one spell, however.”
“So what do you do?”
“The same thing you always do,” said the ring. “You construct the spell but rather than cast it, you hold it. When you’re ready, all you have to do is invest the turyn and release it.”
Understanding hit Will like a carpenter’s mallet, and he felt stupid. “So it’s just like practice. It never occurred to me you could hang onto a construct for very long.”
“For as long as your patience lasts. If you’ve developed a strong will, you can manage more than one at a time, though it requires a keen mind as well, so you’re probably already disqualified.”
Will chuckled. He still missed his grandfather, but when the ring insulted him it almost felt like the old man was still with him. I’m warped, he thought. “So how many could you do, when you were alive?”
“Three, and I was one of the best.”
“So, someone was able to do more than that?”
“None that I ever heard of, other than Aislinn. She could manage four at a time, so long as none of them were extremely complex.”
“She was better than you?”
Arrogan grunted. “There’s a reason she was known as the goddess of magic, even before she became one of the fae. But I had my own special talents.”
“Such as?”
“Pure spitefulness,” said the ring. “She was kinder than me, though not by much.”
He laughed, then dismissed the limnthal. In one conversation, a whole new world of possibilities had opened up for him. He could manage to construct any spell in the book he had, so long as it was fourth-order or less. Up until then, he had thought he would need to have perfectly memorized a spell to be able to use it in a real-world situation, but if he prepared one ahead of time and held onto it, he could choose anything he was capable of.
As a test, he constructed the light spell, held onto it, then attempted to construct the fire-starting spell. He lost both constructs almost immediately. Given that the two spells were the simplest he knew, he would need a lot more practice before he could manage two at a time. He tried again, this time constructing the wind-wall spell while consulting the book. Once it was complete, he left the room, holding it in one hand.
He made it downstairs, out the door, and halfway to the college wall before his concentration slipped and the construct crumbled. He took out the book and assembled it once more, then resumed his walk.
Once he was close to the wall and out of sight of the college buildings, he decided to test it out, picking a spot well away from any trees or bushes. Investing his turyn, he felt a wave of fatigue wash over him as a powerful wind whipped around him.
That was underwhelming, he thought, but he knew what he’d done wrong. He hadn’t prepared by creating a larger reserve of turyn before releasing the spell. Starting again, he expanded his outer shell and let it fill with as much turyn as he could hold, then he constructed the spell. Taking a deep breath, he injected his turyn into the construct and released it.
A vast, roaring wind encompassed him, tearing through the open space and ripping up the lawn around him for ten feet in every direction. The spell took everything he had, and he stayed on his feet only from stubbornness and long practice functioning while turyn-deprived. His grandfather’s cruel teaching practices made more sense to him now. Arrogan cast this, then fought several soldiers until the sorcerer refilled his turyn, thinking he was helpless. Damn!
His turyn was recovering quickly, but knowing what the old man had done still impressed him. I’ve got a long way to go.
Will continued on to the wall, cast his climb spell, then went up and over. He had a lot of places to visit that day. He reconstructed the wind-wall spell and practiced holding it while he walked, stopping to redo it whenever his concentration wavered. His first stop was at The Hanged Man. He entered and went to the bar and waited until Jared came over. “Did anyone leave a message for me?”
The bartender nodded, then walked down the bar and reached under it. He returned with a small slip of paper in hand, which he passed to Will.
The Mangy Dog, tomorrow evening at sixth bell. I’ll be insi
de at a corner table.
~R
“Thanks,” said Will, passing the bartender a single clima for his trouble. “Do you know a good tailor?”
“Just normal clothing?”
“Mainly,” answered Will, “but I also need something for a palace function in a month.”
“If you’ve got the coin, you should go to Branstowe’s on High Street.”
Will took Jared’s advice and sought out the tailor he had mentioned. As before, he paid close attention to the street as he left, but he saw nothing that made him suspicious. A short ten-minute walk brought him to Branstowe’s.
He was taken by the smell of fresh linen and wool with a subtle underlayer of leather when he entered the tailor’s shop. “Can I help you?” asked a well-dressed man with a cloth tape measure draped around his neck.
“I need new clothes,” Will announced.
The man smiled. “That’s what I’m here for. What do you need in particular?”
“Everything. I’m a student at Wurthaven, so I need several new tunics and matching trousers, but I also have to attend a palace function.”
“The Winter Ball?”
Will nodded. “The king invited me.”
The tailor whistled, then held out his hand. “I’m Bryan by the way, Bryan Branstowe. What sort of budget do you have?”
“I want to look good and I’m not afraid of the cost,” said Will.
“And you need everything?”
Will nodded.
Bryan looked him up and down. “So, new shoes, paned hose, a linen shirt, doublet, and a jerkin,” said the tailor. “Oh, and a hat. Come over here and let me show you the fabrics we have to work with.”
He followed the man around the shop for several minutes, and soon his head was spinning. “Can’t you just choose for me?” he asked.
Bryan smiled. “I’d never hear that from a nobleman, but if you trust me, I’ll have you dressed better than the proudest count or baron. Even so, tell me what colors you prefer.”
They eventually settled on a dark grey doublet with a burgundy jerkin and hose. Bryan spent several minutes measuring Will from head to toe and making notes in a small journal. After he was done, Will asked, “How much will all this cost?”
The tailor spent a moment adding, then answered, “Fourteen gold crowns. That’s including the regular clothes.”
Will tried to hide his shock. He’d expected a high price, but actually hearing it was another thing. “How much should I pay now?”
“Most of my customers would be insulted if I asked for a deposit, but since you’re not a nobleman—five crowns?”
Will handed over the coins.
“Come back in two weeks and I should have it all ready.”
He asked for advice on a good cobbler and left the shop. By the time he had left High Street, he had purchased two pairs of boots and a pair of shoes for the ball. He summoned the oilskin bag with his mail in it, and then he went to see the armorer, Byron Waters.
“Back again?” said the amiable armorer, stroking his beard. “What do you need?”
Will got straight to the point. “This is my mail, but it needs a few repairs. I’d also like to have greaves and a breastplate made.”
Byron nodded. “A wise choice. Where’s your helm?”
He hadn’t thought to summon it before entering the shop and he was loathe to do so in front of the man. “I have a steel cap, but I didn’t bring it.”
“Do you use a mail coif with it?”
Will shook his head, “Just linen padding.”
“If you’d like a new helm then I’d recommend getting a new cap with an aventail.”
“Aventail?”
“It will save you some weight. Rather than wearing a padded cap, mail over that, and a steel cap on top, you just have the padding and the helm. The mail is attached directly to the helm itself.”
“Wouldn’t it be loose around the neck?”
“There’s a strap so you can buckle it tightly around the chin. Are you returning to the army?”
Will shook his head. “No, but I have a bad tendency to get into situations where I need more protection than just the brigandine you made me.”
“You’ll draw stares if you walk around town in that much armor,” said Byron with a chuckle.
“I only plan to use it when I know I’ll need it. Do you sell shields?”
“You’re definitely planning to go to war,” the armorer declared with a wink. “I don’t make shields, but I can recommend a reliable smith that does.”
“I appreciate that,” said Will. “Also, I wonder if you can give me some advice.”
“Ask away.”
“I have two friends in Barrowden. When I was there, someone paid to have this mail made for me. Is there a way to do that for my friends?”
Byron opened his arms wide. “Look no further. It’s not an uncommon request. Most go to the military headquarters first, but you’ll be sent to a dozen different people before you find the right logistics officer. I can accept a payment and send a letter to Master Harless in Branscombe. We have a system of credit we’ve worked out over the years.”
“You’ll make the mail here?”
The armorer shook his head. “I can’t get their measurements. Harless will do that, as well as have his apprentices produce the mail.”
In the end, Will handed over a hundred crowns for Dave and Tiny’s mail shirts, though he also received a promise that he would be refunded the extra coins once the final cost was determined. It would be a few weeks before he received the refund, though. He paid another sixty-three crowns for his own armor purchases, then went to the shops that Byron recommended.
He bought a new shield, a falchion to replace the one he had lost, a spear, and a crossbow with ten bodkin-tipped bolts. The weaponsmith warned him several times not to carry the crossbow inside the city, since they were outlawed for civilians within Cerria.
As soon as he was away from the weaponsmith, he stored his new weapons in the limnthal. The crossbow he loaded and cocked before putting it in storage. Ordinarily that would have been a bad idea, but since time moved so slowly inside the limnthal he wasn’t worried about damage to the weapon.
All told, he’d spent a hundred and eighty-one crowns, and he was still flush with money. I could get used to this, he thought wryly. I need to give some to Mom the next time I make a trip home. Once he finished the blood-cleanse potions and collected his due from the Bursar’s Office he would still have well over five hundred gold to his name.
Another thought came to him, Janice’s tuition. She had lost her sponsor because of him, but he could certainly afford to pay for her expenses. The thought made him smile. Life was looking up.
From there, Will returned to the main street and made for the south gate. He needed to talk to Tailtiu. Once he was outside the city, he made for the congruence point he had met her at previously. He whispered her name as he walked so she could start her journey.
It was half an hour after he arrived before she appeared. “You need to travel again?” she asked.
“No. I need you to do something different this time. Are you able to enter the city?” He jerked his head in the direction of the capital.
She gave him an odd look, then gestured to her legs. “I have feet.”
“Without becoming a spectacle,” he clarified, eyeing her naked form. “During the daytime.”
“You wish me to be seen or unseen? At night I could manage either, but during the day I would have to use a disguise.”
As he watched, her form shifted, becoming that of an unremarkable middle-aged woman. Her ethereal beauty vanished, replaced by a face that could pass unnoticed in almost any crowd. The disguise was perfect, except for a complete lack of clothing and breasts that had grown to incredible proportions.
“Are those really necessary?” he asked, looking away.
She laughed. “A lot of farmwives have these. I thought it would be fun.”
“Except they ge
nerally wear clothing.”
The illusion of a thick wool dress covered her body, though Will could still see through it to a certain degree. “Such as this?” she asked.
“What if a mage sees you?”
“If you’re that worried, I can steal a dress. I also have other forms.”
Inspiration struck him. “Like a mouse, or maybe a bird?”
“Not here. Back in Faerie I can use smaller forms, but in your world it’s impractical unless the form is of a similar or larger size.”
He remembered how large her owl form had been in Barrowden. “Why is that?”
“Creating extra pseudo-flesh is much easier than removing actual flesh to become smaller. In Faerie my turyn is almost unlimited, but here I have to use my magic with care,” she explained.
Will thought over what she had said for a second. It made sense, but it raised further questions in his mind. Did human wizardry have spells to change the user’s form? If so, they were probably extremely complex. He resolved to ask Arrogan later.
He handed Tailtiu a gold crown. “Find a dress, but leave the coin to compensate the victim.”
“You wish me to do so now?”
“As long as it doesn’t take you more than an hour. I’ll wait.”
She transformed into a massive wolf and broke into a run, vanishing through the barley field. She returned less than half an hour later with a dress in her mouth. Will then watched her go through the unsettling process of transforming back into a human woman, awkwardly putting on the dress, and adjusting her size and proportions to fit the clothes.
He glanced at her feet. “You forgot shoes.”
“I don’t like them.”
Will sighed but didn’t feel like fighting her over the issue. Being barefoot in the city would make her a little unusual but he didn’t doubt that she would be able to compensate for that when it came to following the target. “Let’s go,” he told her.
He took her into Cerria and led her to The Mangy Dog. “Two men will be meeting here today at sixth bell.”
“What bell?”
He took a moment to explain the city’s bell tower that rang at specific times to notify the citizens of the current time. The tower had a complex water clock within that tracked time and activated a mechanism to ring the bells a specified number of times at different points throughout the day and night. “When the bell rings six times, it means that it’s six o’clock in the evening. They should be meeting sometime close to then.”
Secrets and Spellcraft Page 28
