Realms of Magic - Brian Thomsen King [23]
As he walked, the duplicate's features changed. He became taller, almost gangly, and his hair changed from Jehan's dark ponytail to an icy blond tint, worn short. Gerald, Anton's friend.
Then he changed again, the blond darkening to a night-black shade, worn free over the shoulders, the face aging and gaining a full beard, black with a white stripe in its center. The shoulders widened, and the wizard's stride became long and measured. Khelben Arunsun, the Black-staff of Waterdeep. The Old Spider.
"Are you all right, child?" asked the elder mage.
Jehan, propped against a wall, managed a weak nod. He noticed that no mind-killing lights danced at the older man's fingertips.
"Good," said the wizard. "Maskar takes a dim view when I get his apprentices damaged, and doubly so when they are his relatives. Of course, he's dismissed apprentices for much less serious crimes than this."
Jehan's mouth finally found purchase. "What…?" he said. "What happened?"
Khelben's mouth formed a thin line. "For what it's worth, you can tell your master that my original plan did not involve you. I had found this little bit of smoke powder, and put the sand in it, hoping to turn up the conspirators. Then as Gerald, I would hang out at the better taverns loudly declaring my anti-elder, pro-powder thoughts, waiting for someone to contact me to solve the little problem I had given them. I did not count on another young whelp making a better case than myself on the use of smoke powder. I did not even know you had been contacted until an abjuration I had placed here warned me that the powder had been purified. At that point, it seemed to make more sense to imitate your appearance, and throw the conspirators off-balance, should they have killed you. My 'Gerald' identity failed to impress them earlier, and I would set them to immediate flight in my natural form, the one you so aptly titled 'skunk-maned.'"
The elder mage paused in his lecture, as if just remembering Jehan was still there, leaking his blood into the wall. He looked at his battered companion and added, "So, child, you still think everyone in Waterdeep should have smoke powder?"
Jehan looked at the flaming wreckage of the warehouse. Already the locals had responded and were forming bucket brigades from nearby cisterns. Everyone was ignoring the two mages-more magic of the Old Spider, no doubt.
"I think," Jehan started, too tired and battered to be properly respectful or afraid, "I think you just can't blow up the future and hide in the past. Somewhere, someone is going to get past you, and you need to be ready for the day. You can't stop progress."
That was when Khelben surprised the young mage. He laughed-a sharp, staccato chuckle. "Ah, so at least we agree on something. You are right: we can't stop progress. Smoke powder, the printed word, new forms of magic-it's all coming. But we can slow it down from a run to a walk, so at least we can be ready for it. So we can be its master, instead of it being ours."
Jehan groaned. "You think the Old Rel… Maskar will dismiss me for this?"
Khelben nodded at the wreckage. "Well, he no longer changes apprentices into newts for forgetting the lemon in his morning tea… but yes, this is pretty serious. I could put a good word in for you. Or perhaps…"
Jehan looked at Khelben, but his eyes refused to focus properly. "Perhaps?" was the best the youth could manage.
"I could use another youth to scrub the pots, sweep the conjuring floor, and learn what snippets of magic I deign to teach. And an adventurous youth would be suitable, since I think my Gerald persona should leave town for a while." The Old Spider chuckled again. "And Maskar would be relieved of having to face your parents with your latest escapade."
Jehan tried to smile, but the effort broke his last bit of willpower. He fell into soft, warm darkness.
The young mage awoke at home, the healer speaking to his parents in the next room