Rise of the Blade - Charles Moffat [73]
The bald Harper downed the last of his drink and wiped his chin on his shirt as he stood. "Time to go get into more trouble. Any messages for Durnan?"
"Ask him if he's coming to the party tonight."
"Will do. See ye later"
Magic is the power of mystery. It boggles the mind and yet fits so perfectly. For a paradox to be understood, one must take the time to study its various components and develop a theory about how it works. It then takes time and experimentation before one can truly understand the workings of magic. Even the great mages like Elminster have problems working out how magic really works. No mortal really knows the reason why magic does what it does.
In ancient times it was believed that witches controlled evil spirits and ordered them about. In exchange for achieving these tasks, the witch would make sure that certain goals were met so that the spirits were happy. Today, we know that this is not true.
Magic is a non-sentient energy and as such can only be controlled by force. It takes a measure of will power combined with the mage's knowledge to complete a task. An apprentise eventually becomes a full mage and the simpler spells get easier as they attempt harder spells.
Magic sometimes requires fuel to make a spell work. You cannot create a fire without kindling and wood to burn, but also the initial spark. Thus a spell is like a recipe in a cookbook and every mage must learn the spell properly unless he wants his cake to be burnt.
Szymon set down the book and looked up at Draque who was busy scribbling notes beside the cauldron. The half-elf understood that he had an enormous opportunity before him to learn magic but that it was going to require reading the rest of Draque's book which was obviously an introduction to magic.
The problem the apprentise had right now was that he scarcely knew how to read and had come to a word he had never seen before. "Sir?"
Draque looked up. "What?"
"I've come to a word I don't understand."
"What's the word?"
"It might be magic-"
"Rubbish! You don't have the knowledge to use it anyway. You can say the word a dozen times but if you don't know what it means it won't do anything!"
"Czarodziej?"
"Ah, you've come to a word in elvish. It means magician."
"Sir, I'm a half-elf. I do know elvish and that's not an elvish word."
The drow nodded and lit a cigar as he stood up. He walked over to the boy. "That's because its a dark elf word."
"Drow?"
"Yes. Believe it or not, but yes, I speak drow. Better than I speak elvish I'm afraid. Comes from all my years in the Underdark."
"Have you met Drizzt?"
"I've seen him on the surface right here in Waterdeep. I can't say that I was particularly impressed either. He looked so naive."
"Have you met any other drow?"
"Yes, I've known many drow in my time. They're mostly evil too. You can only begin to imagine how vicious my people are."
The "my" took a moment to register and during that time Draque dropped the spell that hid his black face.
Needless to say the half-elf fainted.
Pierce took one look at the unconscious boy and smiled at Draque. "You won't need the Forget spell, the boy is going to follow you around like a puppy I'm afraid. Congratulations! You're now an idol! You can thank the stories about Drizzt Do'Urden."
Draque puffed on his cigar and wasn't sure if he should be pleased. "It looks like I have an apprentise now."
"In more ways than one," Pierce pointed to the sword on Draque's belt. "He's a thug turned apprentise. With any luck and no large explosions you'll have a fine companion in a few years."
"And a brat I didn't want to raise."
"Perhaps, but consider this: He'll be a legacy of your knowledge when you die. Can you ask for much more?"
"Immortality? I could always use that."
The Doctor shook his head. "No, but I'm certain you'll have fun. If that's not one reason, how about this: You've already become regarded as the best mage when it comes to creating spells.