Pool of Radiance - James M. Ward [7]
Ranthor's voice continued its explanation. "The runes are now just so much poetry, but speak the same word you used to open my chamber door and the staff will be covered with the magical script I have taught you to decipher. Study these writings. They are the command words you will need to make this tremendous weapon serve you. I received the staff from a wizard friend who has passed from this plain, so unfortunately there is no way of knowing how many magical charges it retains. Therefore, do not squander its power. Keep the Staff of Power in the Cloth of Many Pockets until you are forced to use it. I advise you not to use the staff in front of strangers unless you plan on killing them, or you are willing to trust them with your life. Many a young mage has lost his life as a result of displaying such power to newfound friends."
Shal felt a chill pass through her body. She had never had reason to kill anyone. Somehow, though, as she heard Ranthor's voice speaking of killing, she felt a deep rage rising up inside her. What moments ago had been senseless anger directed at herself, at Ranthor, and at the world at large was growing into a directed fury against whoever, or whatever, had taken Ranthor from her. Nothing she could do would bring her master back, but she vowed to avenge him. She owed Ranthor that and more.
The voice continued. "I have one more thing to show you, Shal. Pick up the ring and place it on the middle finger of your right hand. Say nothing and do nothing further until I have finished."
Shal was startled by a sudden sternness in Ranthor's voice. She placed the ring on her finger, marveling at its perfection and the way it fit-almost as if it had been made for her hand.
"You now wear on your hand a Ring of Three Wishes. You have studied wishing lore, so I'm sure you understand how great a force you have at your disposal. Use it only at times of greatest need. And one more caution. Don't even think of wishing me back."
Her master had read her mind, even in death.
"Though the ring is powerful enough to accomplish even that, I am now where fate and the gods would have me. I lived many years and am fully prepared for what awaits me in death. You must now use the ring and all else I have given you for your own good."
Shal bit her lip. She could feel the tears starting to well up again.
"Weep not for me" Ranthor's voice was now directly in front of her. She could almost imagine his warm hand grasping her shoulder. "My life was full, especially these last three years that you were with me. May yours be as much and more. Farewell, Shal Bal of Cormyr."
Shal knew that she had heard her master's voice for the last time. She thought back to how she had come to study under the great wizard. Her family-her father, her mother, and brothers-were all sell-swords. Shal was quite small and slightly built, to the point that wielding even a short sword was difficult for her, not to mention trudging the countryside decked out in pounds of chain mail and other battle gear. There had never been any magic-users in their family, and her parents had no reason to suspect that their daughter should have any talent in that area, but when Shal turned sixteen, they heard of the proclamations announcing that the great Ranthor of Cormyr was interviewing for an apprentice, and they sent Shal.
She had watched transfixed as a young man before her had caused a cloth to ignite by speaking a word. A young woman had made a pitcher rise into the