Realms of Magic - Brian Thomsen King [16]
"Huh. I can triple that misfortune" challenged Anton. "My master claims to have studied under Elminster himself. Everything is "Elminster this' and "Elminster that' and 'When I was your age and worked for Elminster.' I don't think he's been farther west than the Rat Hills, but don't let him hear me say that. He would turn me into a frog."
Gerald shook his head. "I beat your ill curses fourfold. I serve the great and powerful Khelben Blackstaff Arunsun, who's just plain crazy. He's been involved in so many plots, he's stone-cold paranoid, and borderline violent to boot. If he thinks you're a danger to Waterdeep in any way, shape, or form, poof!" The blond youth grabbed his forehead with his hand, fingers splayed. "He throws a feeblemind spell on you and burns out your brain cells."
Anton put in, "Ah, but at least you have Laeral, Khel-ben's prize student, hanging around. I hear she's most easy on the eyes."
Gerald sniffed. "You think she'll give an apprentice the time of day? No, she worships the ground Blackstaff levitates over." He took a pull on his mug for effect and, realizing it was empty, signaled for another round.
"I bet he doesn't tell your parents on you," said Jehan. "And you don't have to live up to your family name. Just once I'd like to have old Maskar treat me like a rational, thinking being instead of his nephew's youngest whelp. Maskar thinks everyone else in this city is a lower form of life, especially his students."
Gerald nodded. "And rival mages are barely worth their notice. Khelben calls your master 'the Old Relic.'"
Jehan sniffed in turn. "And yours reminds me of a skunk, what with that white stripe in his beard. I've heard my master call him 'the Old Spider.'"
The blond youth flashed a sly, toothy grin, his first of the evening. "Everyone calls him that, and he likes it that way, I think. Blackstaff and the other big-name wizards revel in the illusion of their power and wear it like a fur-trimmed cloak. Threatening the help is part of the deal. One of the perks, I suppose."
"It wouldn't be such a problem," said Anton, "if they were at least listening to new ideas."
"Don't get me started on that," said Jehan, getting starting on precisely that. The subject was a favorite of the young mage, particularly since it showed the shortcomings of the elder wizards. "They're paranoid enough about their powers getting into the hands of inexperienced pups like us. New magic is beyond their aged brains, and it scares them."
"New magic?" asked Gerald.
"You've heard about Maztica, right? The land across the Shining Sea?" said Jehan. Gerald nodded. "They have a completely different flavor of magic out there, based on feathers and fangs. These Mazticans use it to move water through pipes, like a well-pump. Think about what such interior plumbing would do for Waterdeep. I tried to ask old Maskar about it and got a lecture about learning the basics first before getting involved in 'speculative' spell-casting. Speculative! There's another culture that can transform our world, and he's turning his back on it."
"Aye, and you're seeing more wood-block printing around," said Anton. "But we're still writing spells out longhand."
Gerald nodded. "And weapons technology is at the same level it was when the elves abandoned Myth Drannor, as if we haven't improved anything in the past thousand years."
Jehan said, "You're talking about smoke powder, right?"
Anton shifted uneasily in his chair, but Gerald nodded readily. "There are a number of things, but yes, smoke powder is Blackstaff s pet peeve."
Jehan laughed. "Peeve? I hear the Old Spider is flat-out paranoid about the stuff, blowing it up wherever he finds it, and a good chunk of the city along with it. The way I hear it, the powder comes from other planets, other planes."
Anton harrumphed into his mug. "I have to confess, I'm not comfortable talking about this. I hear smoke powder is dangerous."
Jehan shook his head. Anton was so cautious sometimes, he