Amber and Iron - Margaret Weis [26]
“I’ll wager you have not read this one.” Nuitari caused a volume to materialize in his hand. “Spells of Conjuration for the White Robe, Advanced Levels.”
Mina shrugged. “Why would I want to read it? I have no interest in magic.”
“Indulge me,” said Nuitari. “Read the first chapter. If you do this for me, I will grant you permission to leave your room for an hour each day. You may walk the halls and corridors of the Tower. Under guard, of course.” For your own safety.
Mina eyed him, as though wondering what game he was playing. She reached out her hand.
Nuitari wasn’t certain what he expected to gain from this experiment—perhaps nothing more than the pleasure of humbling this young mortal, who was altogether too arrogant and bold for his liking.
“I should warn you,” he said, as he handed her the book, “this has a spell on it.…”
“What kind of spell?” Mina asked. She took the book from his hands and opened it.
“A spell of warding,” said Nuitari, watching in wonder.
He recalled when Caele had picked up this book. The author, a White Robed wizard, had placed a warding enchantment on it, so that only those of the White Robes could use the spells. Caele of the Black Robes had dropped the book with a curse, then spent the next few moments wringing his burned fingers and swearing. He’d sulked for a day and a half over the incident and refused to go back to help Basalt with the unpacking.
A disciple of Chemosh would certainly not be able to handle this book without punishment.
Mina ran her hands over the soft leather binding. She traced with her fingers the title stamped in gold on the cover.
Nuitari wondered if the warding spell had worn off.
Mina opened the book, studied the first page.
“You want me to read this?” she asked, skeptical.
“If you please,” said Nuitari.
Shrugging, Mina began to read.
Nuitari was astonished, and he could not remember the last time a mortal had astonished him. She was reading the words of the language of magic, a feat only a trained wizard should be able to do.
Her pronunciation of the words of the spell was flawless. Even after hours of study, White Robed wizards would have stumbled through this spell, and here was Mina, a disciple of Chemosh, with not an ounce of moon-magic in her bones, reading it perfectly the first time. The spidery words should have clogged her mouth, stuck in her throat, burned her tongue. As he listened to her rattle them off in a bored monotone, he regarded her with amazement.
Nuitari might have concluded that Mina was a wizardess in disguise, except for one thing.
She read the spell flawlessly yet without understanding.
So might a human scholar of the elven language read aloud an elven love poem. The human might know and understand and be able to pronounce the words, but only an elf could give the words the delicate shades of meaning the elven author intended. Only a wizard could give these words the life required to cast the spell. Mina knew what she was saying. She just didn’t care. Reciting the spell was an exercise to her, nothing more.
Had his mother, Takhisis, taught Mina magic?
Nuitari thought this over and rejected it.
Takhisis detested magic, distrusted it. She would have been well pleased with a world that had no magic in it, for she viewed magic as a threat to her own powers. Takhisis had not taught Mina magic, and she certainly would not have learned to read the language of magic from the mystics of the Citadel of Light. Nor yet from Chemosh.
Strange. Very strange.
Mina halted mid-sentence, looking up at him. “Do you want me to go on? The rest is just more of the same.”
“No, that will do,” Nuitari said. He took the book from her hands.
“I won the wager. I have an hour of freedom.” Mina started toward the door.
“All in good time,” Nuitari said, halting her. “I have no one to serve as your escort. Basalt is scrubbing up spilt blood and, as I said, you would find Caele a dangerous companion. I fear you must bear with me a while