Vignettes

Part 1. Ship of Wizards

Ship of Wizards

- Molten!!! Stop. Stop! Stop, IN THE NAME!!! - screamed Marcille, waking him.

Another nightmare. They’ve changed since she’d been through hell, she became defiant and commanding but still these were nightmares. Lost somewhere between his own sleep and reality, Tamash had a revelation. Molten - what, stone, metal?

Someone who knows about metal.

Namari.

Not even Namari, but her name.

He rose, and Marcille woke up.

- Tamash? You’re leaving? An emergency?

- I hope of a welcome kind. Thank you.

- Where to?

- Wraeport.

- Building your ship again? Have fun, - she fell back into the pillows.

***

Master shipbuilder watched the works - the carpenters were already driving massive copper rivets, fastening iron knees boiled in linseed against rust (all they could afford from his dream) to the pale oak beams and ribs.

- Colleague Orellas?

- Colleague Tonda? Didn’t expect you, and so early in the day. And what is that you are carrying in your fist so gingerly?

Magister Tonda loosened his grip and let silvery metal trickle from his rune-inscribed palm, snaking along the wooden table and cooling into a dull ribbon.

- What?

- I should have thought earlier, I should have thought to ask her earlier, Colleague!

- Asked whom?

- I have a friend, a dwarf named Namari. Which means “lead”. If we cannot get enough quicksilver, might molten lead work? It’s about a third lighter but…

- Oh, - Orellas fell silent and then loudly whispered a YES.

- Let’s go. I am in your debt, Colleague Tonda, and I do not mean the funds. Looks like we’ll get it done. Let us go.

- Where?

- To my yacht. We’ll drain quicksilver and test! Do you intend to heat it with polygrams? That’ll be too much for magic to handle. Gesto, fetch a roll of lead sheet and take it to Swallow!

- You’ve been warning about relying on magic, Colleague. Can we fit a kind of furnace under? Ground oil’s quite cheap, and we’re going to have tanks and piping anyway, just have to figure a slow steady burner.

- Probably. Imagine a ship with a stove funnel stuck in it… Polygrams will have to do for the test, - agreed Orellas.

***

Three months earlier.

Moored away from the main cargo port there was a small ship - well, a two-masted flush-decked yacht for the purists, an elegant vessel of unfamiliar design. A prow stretched forward like an albatross’ beak merging with the bowsprite, the masts were sharply raked and the bow strangely curved. It looked like speed itself built of wood - a rich brown lacquered wood over the copper-plated sides that shone is if freshly careened. The sails, now furled, must have been also of some novel design, as befits the own yacht of the famous Orellas Suens.

The greatest of all living, well, working sea mages and Tamash felt pride for his accomplisment. Accepting his invitation, Orellas arrived with his handpicked assistants to work for Canlemere. There was movement aboard, a short, spare man, dark-skinned with graying curly hair stepped to the jetty and greeted Tamash.

They took a private room at The Tiller, Wraeport’s best tavern catering to the richer shipowners and merchants - none of the expected planking, old nets, ropes and worn ship parts, it was neatly tiled and whitewashed, with a trelisse of winding grapes. The schmaltz herring with rings of pickled onion went down accompanied by pale ale, followed by baked mussels in buttery, spicy garlic-loveapple sauce with a light white wine from Bonnario (the whole place was meant to look like a piece of Bonnario or Sadena). Coming up next was plaice baked in a salt crust and a heavier, viscously sweet and strong wine from the Island.

- I expected the Northern continent to be colder. Never called in at Wraeport.

- The common mistake, Colleague. “Half covered by snow” means they have snowfall in winter even here for a few days. It’s the southern cusp. I didn’t know what to expect myself first time here.

- You’re… you must be, - Orellas squinted at Tamash, trying to discern some features this or that folk were supposed to have, - not a local, I see.

- I’m Rothilan.

Orellas started a polite and extended praise of the Rothilan shipbuilders till Tamash excused himself for being a mountainside Rothilan.

- I, myself, am from the blessed realm of Quessarant, Eight of First Circle, - explained he. That mattered little, on the Western continent tallmen of every hue and physique lived anywhere, roughly mixed up descendants of Great War’s ex-soldiers, prisoners of war, refugees and so on.

Tamash made a note to check what exactly was Quessarant - an independent duchy (Queensryche does not allow kingdoms so close by) or perhaps some freehold ruled by the elven ambassador or councillor while the local dynasty reigned. Telling him the destination and purpose outright could be wrong, many in the First Circle lands resent elven superiority and more doubt it. Better keep to sailing matters.

- Wraeport serves the capital all year round, but mostly with old-style local cogs. Enough for Green sea crossing, and the Whitecrest strait - one can see the other shore on a clear day there. Stubborn, I’d say.

- Do you want to build a ship? - asked Orellas, - or a fleet?

He looked at Tamash’s unchanged expression.

- Or… a navy?

This time Magister Tonda shrugged.

- Let us start with a ship. I am going to need one fast.

- I heard a thing or two about the shipyards here. They are said to be capable, and have excellent timber, flax and hemp. Pitch and men, too. Would you like every magical invention crammed in? Or not just magical? Or only the useful ones? - the visitor watched Tamash intently, - I need to experiment, but can’t really fund a full-sized ship out of my pocket.

- The useful.

- I suggest the wavedrive propulsor, waterproof compartments and pumps at least. Desalinators can wait…

- What’d be at most, colleague? - asked Tamash in dead earnest.

- An all-iron ship.

Magister Tonda looked dumbfounded and felt no shame for letting Orellas see that.

- An iron-framed ship at least. But even that’d bite into a country’s yearly production deep and will mean building a whole forgeyard. One could theoretically forge the ribs and keel from staves like an anchor… You’re listening. I like that.

- I am an artificer, Colleague.

- Oh sorry. Didn’t know. Thought you a battlemage foremost. Back to business. How big?

- Must be capable of circumnavigation.

- This means quite big. Seven, eight myriads deadweight because there’s precious few places one can get proper supplies. Do you know, colleague, how many grades of ropes and cables an ocean-going ship must be supplied with?

- No.

- Make a guess.

- Five?

- Ten or eleven. From anchor cable to leechrope. And at least three grades of sailcloth. And wood for repairing… well, everything. You’ll have to carry enough to replace masts for a circumnavigation. Do you intend to carry cargo?

- For that ship - not much. Choice and compact.

- Understandable. Because we’ll have to sacrifice one of the holds for the propulsor.

- It must be able, even under normal sails, to outrun anything of the size and defend against anything equal.

- It is not the size of ship that matters, it is how many people can be crammed aboard. Sometimes I wish there was a weapon that could disable or sink a ship outright. Punch holes in sides from a hundred yards, collapse masts, that would change the game. You cannot put aboard every ship a mage that can set fire to rigging from afar.

- There will be mages.

- A capable mage is the greatest asset… Shall we go aboard? I must show you my latest projects.

- The ship must have decent accommodations for the crew, and for persons of quality, too. We expect diplomats, officers, merchants to travel.

- Sure.

- Also must be able, just as you said, to take aboard too much men if necessary, - added Tamash.

- Then it must have cooking provisions oversized for the crew, and water supplies. I intend to install metal water tanks, silvered inside. One iron, one bronze to compare how they’d hold up. And have a system of pipes and pumps to deliver water straight to the kitchen and scuttlebutt.

- We could cast a preserving spell on water, too.

- We must rely on magic as little as possible. What if there are anti-magic areas in the ocean?

- This has never been properly charted. Point taken. We cannot just let provisions spoil.

- Yes. Enchant part of the supply, the cabin stores, the fresh stuff - but we have to lay a complete store of good old everything - salt meat, cod, hardtack, beans, cheese, flour, onions, salted cabbages and sourfruit. I believe that works.

- The cabbages come in later, colleague. What do we need to begin?

- Go aboard Swallow and see my plans.

Stepping carefully after all the food and wine, they descended into the master cabin of the yacht, luxurious enough for the short Orellas to stand up full height. Tamash really missed having his old, full, wavy hair after a couple of brushes with beams. The host called a steward, or rather a deck hand doubling as servant, and soon the mages had a foggy silver bowl of iced grog to continue their conversation over drawings.

- Seasoned wood and fittings, which I guess are all available at Wraeport…

- Can I offer you an idea?

- All ears.

- We can use the diamond hair spell for cutting wood.

It was the turn for Orellas to look dumbfounded.

- Oh my. My abyss and chaos… it’s what I’ve been missing! It’d shave months off the time! Colleague Tonda, you are a genius. We can stretch it between sturdy stone columns and have the boards sawn and planed at once!

- We can go a step further. Take a saw frame and stretch it. Do the fine hand-shaping work as well.

- How can a saw frame hold that?

- We, - Tamash smiled, - stretch it between mounting points made of grooved diamonds.

- Headwind! You just broke the entire shipbuilding industry, Colleague. This is impo… impermissible. You or I or any mage of quality can cut up all the parts for a ship in, I guess, a few days. There’s adze and chisel and gimlet work only do be done by hand.

- I’ll have the adzes and chisels and gimlets enchanted, too. So they’re hero sword sharp, won’t dull or break.

- Do you understand this will put many men out of work?

- As I understand, men could build more ships for the same time and money. Or go build houses, bridges, whatever faster and cheaper. We could train journeyman mages for construction specially, you know. Too many mages are scraping by trying to run an atelier of fancy and useless stuff. They could be making a living.

- I’m doing it, Magister Tonda. I’d do it anyway. But…

- But there is a problem, what exactly?

- I’ll need plenty brass. Not bronze, quicksilver dissolves tin. And skilled men to cast complicated parts for my propulsor.

- I’ll go to the Hierophant, they have a large foundry where they cast bells, statues, church doors and so on. I won’t even have to part with money - he’ll just subtract from my pay.

- Ah. I almost forgot you’re the one doing those resurrections. Excellent. Perfect. No. Alas, the quicksilver. We could use water, but a water-filled propulsor won’t fit in a ship.

- Common quicksilver?

- Usual pure quicksilver, colleague, but by the hogshead.

- How much does a hogshead of mercury even weigh?

- About four myriad pounds. And we’ll need at least twenty. Most probably closer to thirty and some to spare.

- A pound of quicksilver costs what, ten silver or so?

- Maybe. But there is not thirty hogsheads of quicksilver available at anywhere, no matter how hard I searched. If you could source that much… I don’t know, not buy it but rent somehow… I have a model, a toy-sized propulsor on my yacht’s boat and it uses a hundred pounds. I must show it to you, - he stood on a bench, opened a hatch and shouted commands, - please, let us have a ride.

The thing really did not belong on board a ship, or anywhere sane for that matter. Fastened to the iron plates reinforcing the keel and ribs there was a rocking gimbal frame of oak and iron. The thing suspended in it was metal, brass tubes of a strange festooned shape, graduated sectors for measuring something or other, gauges and valves.

- By circulation of quicksilver it converts its own inertial resistance to keel and side rolling into directed propulsion, forward or reverse, - Orellas touched a lever that probably told the boat which way to go. We must assess the relative efficiency of it and sails, must check how it handles the rough sea…

- So, the ship goes the faster the stronger waves are?

- This is the problem. We need to know how much of the impulse we must be able to shunt and whether my valves are up to task. In all-shunt mode it just stabilizes the ship. Locked down by those pins it’s just ballast. And it can be driven by rocking from the capstains in full absence of wind! Here, you can rock the frame with your foot and the boat goes ahead! This should be much more efficient than any setup of oars… at least this small model is. Get quicksilver and we’ll beat the wind.

- I’ll try my best. Please start on the working drawings and prepare the estimate, Colleague. You can call on me at the New Palace, mage tower, any time around noon.

Part 2. The Guiding Star

The Guiding Star

- Sir, there’s a man asking to see the court mage, sir.

- Did he state a name or reason?

- Says he’s Vulf Lursen or like that, and he’s dressed like he won’t be let inside a decent tavern.

- A beggar?

- Says a magician, sir. I can’t tell that, sir.

- To the hall.

Magister Tamash Tonda has seen many mages and knew there’s all sorts of colleagues. There are some truly eccentric individuals, there’s playing a part and there’s falling on hard times - no other reasons for an Adept mage to be going around dressed like that. The guard was right, but the palace mage tower is no tavern, and has a separate entrance for all sorts of cases. Not quite rags, but everything the man wore was patched, stitched, stained or plain worn out. He carried a sailor’s ditty bag slung over his shoulder, all right for Wraeport but not the capital.

- Greetings, colleague, - said Tamash.

He stood struggling with emotions, conscious of his looks yet upright and probably meaning some business past asking for a handout.

- Greetings, Magister… Tonda, was I told right?

- Yes. Have a seat. Would you like some refreshments?

Vulf Lursen did - he gulped down water, attacked a mince pie in a way that did honor to his name and drank a cup of hot tanil with honey, looking grateful.

- I beg pardon for my appearance but getting here from the Western continent took a toll… all my resources. I had to hire myself out as a deck hand, luckily I still can do that. I have something to offer you and you only. Word travels far and they say… well, you’re human to begin with. I did not spend my life (well, he did look a weathered four dozen years old) and fortune on another toy for the elves.

Tamash held back, letting the man speak.

- They have elf eyes to gaze at stars and elf lifetimes to study navigation.

That was beginning to sound interesting.

- I, Vulf Lursen, want to aid my kinsfolk. By trial and many an error I came up with this. Lursen’s Beacon. Here’s the spell. Initiate level as you can see, - he unrolled a scroll.

Initiate level it was, just three lines or glyphs and a brief flow diagram, meticulous drawing and calligraphy, noted Tamash, learning the incantation in a single reading. Magister Tonda took a moment to ponder how many spells he actually knew - or how many did Frevellen… Meanwhile, the visitor began his explanations:

- You hold this tone, at hot-green and scan throughout the tonal circle till you have a ping. Then you switch to perpendicular, cold-red and repeat.

- And, colleague?

- This is the “and”.

Unwrapping a rag, the man placed on the table a kind of tablet, a polished bronze plaque with rotating dials.

- You keep turning first this. The angle dial. And then this. The distance dial. And after two pings you have your bearing and distance to a beacon. Just transfer to a map… oh what a map you have here, original Velani engraving, and hand-painted for races, never seen that version, - the man turned to a wall and couldn’t take his gaze off it.

- How is that really different from a marker rune?

- It is so low-power an Initiate can do it!

- No, the beacon. It must be powered somehow and well, what distance do you wish this to work at?

- Any, - Lursen pointed to the map, then to the next one, a close up on Rhelym and environs.

- Sorry, did I hear you right?

- Yes, Magister Tonda. You did, - said the man, - I am here to present my global navigation beacon spell. You keep the plaque, go anywhere you like and say, a quarter past the next spelltide run it. Put a ruler and protractor to a large-scale map and check. I trusted you with the pointer spell, it’s the beacon part that does it. Should be accurate to a second of angle, to a sea mile. Just let me have…

“Here come the demands”

… a place where I could draw and run a pattern, not a tavern room, you understand.

- Colleague Lursen, I believe your invention is soundly based and promising… but you are not known all over the world as Lursen the Navigator. We will test your invention, I take your offer, spelltide’s coming up around noon tomorrow. Please take this, - he scribbled a note, - and go to Upper Canal street, show it at the Mages Club, you won’t miss the building. The staff will give you a room, access to a well-stocked laboratory (“even if this man grabs some valuable supplies and runs, there are risks to be taken” - thought Tamash), feed you supper and breakfast. Here’s an aura in silvers, enjoy the city. Do come back next evening, colleague Lursen. I will be waiting.

***

The man’s garb seemed at least washed and cared for at the club, the staff picked by Droodle asked no questions, this could have been a disguise for all they cared. Lursen had a haircut and a shave and looked quite presentable.

Tamash spread a map.

- Well, it works. I really was here. Please accept this purse. Hope thirty gold suffices for an Initiate spell (Lursen picked up the reward and pocketed it), and now let us work on the problem. The problem, I guess, is range.

- You guess right. I am an Adept and not of the highest puissance as you may see.

- The inverse triangle law dictates you could power it to maybe…

- Four, five dozen miles, colleague. Beyond, the ping is blurred into a kind of crunch.

- A Magister could do… several gross?

- By my calculations, at pon-factor twodozen it’ll be three gross.

- I’m closer to three, Colleague (Lursen’s mouth set in silent envy), so we need to try.

- The beacon spell costs, - he voiced a list that seemed prepared, - four myriad gold, Canlemere citizenship and lifetime membership at your excellent club.

- The answer lies in pooling force, - Tamash ignored the price tag. Especially that Lursen did not demand a running pergross in case of success.

- I’m not a believer in pooling. And the more in the know…

- Colleague Lursen, - replied Tamash, - no matter what, the spell will have to be powered by a team working shifts.

- You’re right. But I proposed to cast it in a dungeon - this is why I chose to come to you. You are the one doing things below. A single mage in a dungeon with intense gradient could do.

- Have you tried whether it reaches from a dungeon?

- No. I will need escort and a safe place. If teleports and familiars work between dungeon and surface…

“Another gifted mage with a drudge against the world, - thought Tamash, listening to Lursen’s arguments, - and neither theory nor practice enough. At the Academy, a porter could tell him that familiars work by physically flying down passages and teleportation warps the XYZWD space into pseudoplanar”

- Colleague Lursen, you came up with a brilliant idea of using an active powered spell instead of a marker rune, and I think it must be investigated.

The colleague’s face tightened.

- When I say must, I mean it will be done. If you agree, next week I will send you to a dungeon sufficiently far away, three or so hundred land miles, with a powerful party of warriors and mages. You’ll not go deep - first level only, we’ll run the trials and you will be escorted back and return to Rhelym. Several trusted mages, members of the Club, will be given the pointer spell, move out to various locations and observe. Shall we work out the procedure? Time you’ll cast, for how long and such?

- I can agree to this, - said Lursen after a long thought.

- All expenses covered, naturally. On a condition.

- No matter where I’m going, I’m not going back emptyhanded. Yes.

- You will leave a complete, full working scheme of the beacon spell in keeping at a sealed banking house vault till you return or otherwise. Things happen in dungeons and this looks too valuable to leave to chance.

Lursen seemed to cheer up - he’d expected a demand to give up the spell outright.

- May the hospitality of the Club be extended till my departure? - asked he and after Tamash wrote another note moved on to asking mundane questions about places to visit, sights to see, where to get dressed well and so on of Rhelym.

***

Lursen arrived, making his way past the guard with a proud gesture of belonging in the mage tower. Tamash did not rise to walk into the hall, nor moved from his desk, calling for Colleague Lursen to come in. Seeing his expression, the inventor halted at the threshold.

- No? Oh no… - he breathed and buried his face in his palms.

- Please come in and be seated, colleague. Your idea was promising but reality ensued. Shall we go to the vault? Now it is time to try my pooling idea. I’ll have to train several Adepts. Magisters are too few, expensive and lazy.

- What do you propose?

- To test whether it works at all. Then how hard is it to maintain.

- Not very, I assure. Keep unbroken contact to the pattern and light concentration.

- We’ll build a permanent pattern structure. A metal wheel with spikes, is it two and half gross, one per degree of arch?

- You guessed right.

- And chairs. Like metal thrones connected by conduits. With armrests, footplates and so on. Gold, I guess, for perfect contact. You sit a mage on it, bare-bottomed, you have flow. Need several… if we can do with three mages working say, three hour (*) shifts. And three more so teams can change smoothly. And another connected but kept empty just in case. Get this installed in a comfortable warm hall.

- Three Adepts at a time, three-hour shifts? That’ll be gold to pay.

- Exactly. I wish more young mages had profitable employment for their talents. I assure we can work out a schedule - if it works… How I wish it won’t be taking a dozen, that won’t be possible here. Or, Colleague Lursen, anywhere on this continent.

- I’d hate to let elves lay their dainty hands on my work.

- Let me see the pattern and I’ll see what can be done with resonance.

A bank clerk greeted the mages, went through the steps - diligent inspection of the customers, paging through the ledger, finally asking to present the key, - and finally let them through the heavy iron vault door. Tamash, out of idle curiosity, kept noting what could be done with a bit of magic to improve the service, while Lursen brought out the scroll.

They went to Coppers street, where a gnome mechanic carefully studied, disassembled and drew for copying the tablet while Tamash and Lursen had lunch at a tavern, returning to fetch the reassembled device and receive assurance of having three the day after tomorrow or the mechanic is not Bulpel Schrammtobryn. And in the evening, after Tamash studied, learned and copied the spell, it was the Trewsday club gathering. The poorer Adepts were going to have an invitation.

- Say, Colleague, when… when it works, how do you intend to cover the expenses? My pay, - Lursen began with it, naturally, - setting up that pattern wheel you want, paying teams of mages?

- I do not “intend to cover expenses”. I intend to make good money off it, but it’ll take time. For years and years I’m afraid we’ll be leading losses. I’d propose a price of one copper.

- What?

- One copper piece per day of sailing for every vessel using the… Lursen’s Beacon (Vulf’s eyes lit) - you owe the honor. Collected along with other port duties at every established port. We’ll have to undercut any possible competition. There will be plenty of shirking, freeloaders, smugglers, just consider the consequences of everyone using it, including pirates and hostile navies. Also, counterfeit tablets, well, one can do with just paper… but still a respectable job for many mages. Any capable initiate can get a job as a ship’s navigator.

- We are not selling it to the elves!

- Then they’ll just be using it for free. Their coppers are as good as ours.

- I want to re-negotiate the contract! Twelve myriad gold and one progross of all payments, lifetime!

- Six myriad and one progross of profit lifetime starting when we make profit.

- I’m not a young man, Colleague.

- You’re getting a fortune in lump payment.

- I hope I am. Just let us get it going. I am, - he looked up, sad and tired, - tired.

***

Lina reported, across the table at the Swan and Lily - at last back from the dungeon and road fare, she spoke between spoonfuls of stew, bites of fried tuber and gulps of Ansay Sunset. The mission’s resurrection contract went smoothly, a grand duke was no longer widowed and three children got back a mother. Of course, with a lifelong chaos taint, but that did not matter; the whole family will arrive to Rhelym at their pace for a sacred ceremony of embracing into the fold of Guardians. Much of the duchy was expected to follow. The Hierophant, after some arm-wringing, persuaded Tamash and Marcille to agree on free death insurance for anyone resurrected next, but paid out the half, almost two hundred thousand. Now it was time for whipped cream desserts and the details.

- As you said, he was not told who Marcille is. He’d gotten on everyone’s nerves even so - we had to go with Ghreslem Stuntstaig as defensive and healer caster, and Terin instead of Laios - a fine swordsman…

- Well I expected him to be. Back in Rothil our families knew each other for generations, we’ve had blood feuds and marriage and lesser stuff running. His great-great-grandfather killed mine with an oar, if I remember right.

- And a swordsman named Ortson instead of Toshiro, as the Toudens went off to see their parents and present the groom. That Ortson managed to die twice. Guess he’ll stick to safer jobs next, abyss take them all. So this Lursen guy made a big fuss of charting out his sigils and sat casting spells like the sky rested on his shoulders. What happened outside?

- Nothing much. Everyone testing, myself included, felt nothing but diffuse humming.

- He sure deserved a solid kick up.

- He’s getting enough gold to go anywhere and live out his days in luxury. An unpleasant person, I have to admit, sorry as I may be for him.

Part 3. A New Beginning

A New Beginning

The bell clanged, Tamash bent to the funnel of the speaking pipe to the guard post he’d had installed.

- Sir, there’s a Night Watch man to see you.

- Good. Send him in.

The agent, an inconspicuous-looking pale tallman in a black dome hat, bowed and spoke:

- Sir mage, one of the men from your watch list arrived from Wraeport in the morning. He took rooms at the Flagged Mare, your description matches the name he gave.

- Which name?

- Brandoch Danath. Magister Brandoch Danath.

- Thanks. I’ll be expecting him. You did well, keep watching for any others. My regards to Commander Thery and a little something…

Magister Tonda placed on the table a small square of paper that the man palmed off.

- Traveling along with him, - added the agent before leaving, - is a young lady of eastern appearance. Plenty baggage, looking expensive.

So it was working. The fourscore invitations he’d send out were not all in vain. Magister Danath, ex-Academy and higher up in it than Tamash himself ever was. Dean of Anhoyd for a brief time before, and for the briefest after the incident, probably freelancing since, wonder where the offer found him?

Later in the day, just before dinnertime, the bell clanged once more.

- Sir, there’s two colleagues to see you, a lady and a gentleman.

***

The guest was tall, broader and heavier in built than Tamash, had a luxuriant beard and long wavy dark chestnut hair, both streaked gray. He wore a black-on-black embroidered coat lined with sable fur, a strong sinewy hand grasped a staff - except for a couple metal bands and a wrapped grip just a pine branch in natural bark, smoothly forking for a finial.

A man whom Anhoyd tried to swallow and choked on its own blood. A foreigner like him, from somewhere on the Western continent - Tamash would not invite a house-bred Anhoyder.

And, standing at his side was an elegant young woman wearing a creamy mink pelisse, black hair framing a fair face with delicate eastern features. She had a mage’s bearing, too, and held a staff - a metal snake with a pearl in its fanged mouth. The very Rin Kanama that Tamash’s been tasked to find by the late Querian Guild… when was it, in which life not even two years ago? Now, lady Kanama was holding on Brandoch’s arm and they looked every bit a happy couple, age difference and all - well, who’s to speak of age gaps. A most welcome surprise.

The furs alone showed they were not in reduced circumstances, driven here by need. Tamash would prefer to be a benefactor, not just an employer. There was even a possibility of becoming a friend, but that won’t be easy. Brandoch Danath was older and with a reputation of his own.

The inventor of the tensile mirror thaumeter, a refined theoretician who’d taken on two Magisters at once, leaving one dead and one crawling away to never reappear, knifed another the next day and walked through an ambush of three Adepts and assorted hirelings was better a friend.

Tamash had a guess what to do and was ready.

- So, you’ve been on sabbatical for how long? - asked Tamash after the guests doffed their rich furs, left staves at the wall rack and had a look around. He offered them snacks and called for supper, but couldn’t quite wait for after the soup to ask his questions.

- Four years or so, - replied the guest.

- How much is the Academy upset?

- Colleague Tonda, even if they really aren’t, they have to demonstrate they are upset after the Anhoyd… - Brandoch waved a breadstick around like a wand, searching for a proper term.

- Debacle, - Tamash wanted to seal the theme. Brandoch insisted on elaborating:

- I had to do harsh things. I was protecting the children and the faculty. Whatever remained of it.

- I know. Everybody knows. Most think you did right, Colleague Danath. One thing we cannot allow here is scheming and teacher treachery. We have to build a reputation for magic on this continent, it’s our luck the slate is so clear.

- We. I like the “we”. I came here expecting a proposal, - Magister Brandoch Danath nodded and waited.

- Colleague Danath, would you agree to accept the Chair of Magic Theory and History? And the title of Dean?

- And you?

- Chair of Applied Magic. No deaning. I, - Tamash shrugged his shoulders, - I think you have… well, you know the old mistakes and can prevent new ones. This is one thing I cannot, always jumping at every opportunity. So yes, Colleague Danath, I’m offering you a position above mine and pay, too.

- How much is that honor? - asked an amused Brandoch.

- Let me see… chair is an aura daily, dean one-sixth bonus pay. For starters. Quarters, servants, viands, firewood and so on provided onsite. And membership at the Mages Club.

- Accepted. And may I, should I say, vent a bit? About what and how I was, as you say, preventing?

Supper arrived, started with the hot stone and a variety of vegetables and meats to heat, fry or scorch on it, the guests showed good appetite and appreciated both the treats and the sparkling perry.

- … I had to kill Colleagues Mathner and Weyti out of professional respect, if I may be permitted to say so. So they could take their secrets to the grave, Tamash. They did too much and knew how much the others did. I was saving the very existence of the faculty and, telling the truth, of the entire Academy, Wyverlin included. Luckily they were not sure if they’ll be fighting - and who will be fighting whom that day. It was a meeting between me and leaders of the two factions, as you understand. Neither was inclined to reason, and so I was… reduced to the ultimate peacemaking measures. But I’d rather hear about what you got going on started a Mages Club?

- I had to. It’s already been endowed with a library, wine cellar, capable cook and other trappings.

- Please continue.

- Is lady Kanama in along with us?

- Yes, - said Rin with a smile, - I’ll try myself at teaching. As I understand, Lana Yenden is here, too?

- Right. A Dean should have faculty teachers closer to students by age.

- Will Marcille teach?

- No. Not now at least. She is too well known as a practitioner of dark arts. Maybe some day dust will settle. Don’t worry for the elven touch, we’re getting some courses by Lady Viallenne.

- Excellent! She’s been invited by the Academy over and over, but never agreed. You said there was a prodigy healer and protection specialist in your party?

- I did and do, but, Colleague Danath, miss Falin Touden is young, awkward and generally nice. Can’t teach well yet. We must drill the students in basics of mundane healing as well. At least things like handling a running gut, heart attack, suffocation and so on.

The soup, a chicken leek one, came and went, and the Magisters went on proposing details.

- Remember Eurene? - asked Brandoch, - if I may be permitted to propose some candidates?

- Well, I do, was a total greenhorn back then. She left for a family, husband, children and so on, unusual for a teacher lady.

- Well it’s been dozeneight years ago, Tamash. Her husband’s dead, daughters married, she is a genteel poor Adept and has nothing to do. Gefton City does not need another atelier.

- What do you propose her for?

- Basics and general minding of younger pupils. And, when we get girl students, a proper lady will be necessary on staff.

- Yes. And I’d like to lure away someone from the Royal High School.

- A non-mage?

- Exactly. Someone who can deal with running the place. And invite people to teach history, geography, politics, law - got a gnome for law anyway. I want students to have an understanding of life, not just a head full of spells. What to do, where and for whom - not just how. I’ll also have fine arts… smuggled in as calligraphy and draughtsmanship. Whatever the Academy misses out. And get extracurriculars - riding, fencing, dancing, climbing, escape and entry. And have etiquette dinners. And play dungeon sessions with toy passages, monsters and dice, must work out the rules. And…

- If you can afford it.

- Is it “you”, Colleague Danath?

- I’m still sitting on a fence. If I commit myself, I won’t ever be let inside Academy. And I don’t have a court mage tenure and a resurrection business and whatever…

- A megadungeon to raid at leisure, shipbuilding and trading company, navigation service, almanach - there’s work for you in all those.

- At least you’ve got a proper gnome illusionist, am I right?

- We have Droodle on illusion for sure.

Tamash declared it was time for the main dish, a beef stew garnished with tubers sliced fine and fried crunchy, and there was pleasant silence for a while. Setting away his goblet, Magister Brandoch asked:

- Dear Colleague?

- I am all ears, - Brandoch smiled.

- Do we even have a name for the undertaking? I won’t like a “New Academy” or “North Academy”.

- Canlemere School? - said Tamash, he’d considered that long enough.

- Modest and to the point. And, I guess, we’re not copying the faculty system - rotten. But competition will be necessary.

- See what the students come up with, prune away the worst and keep.

- Perhaps. Next, do we start with dozen year-olds?

- Not the first enrollment, definitely. I will post notices everywhere it makes sense… lure a few pre-initiates from old and frail mages. Get parents all over the place informed. Steal some young acolytes off the Holy Guardians, the Hierophant promised me. Dozenthree, four years old, I wish students could take battle magic together with Auxiliaries starting year two.

Brandoch steepled his fingers.

- Yes. We can’t do without battle magic. And real dungeon practice, right?

- Your input will be most appreciated. We need to spar someday, Colleague. Show them how it’s done once they’re able to appreciate the finesse. By the way, where did my invitation find you?

- Invitation? What invitation?

- Colleague… I’ve been sending out invitations to all places where the mages I’d like to invite worked, lived, passed through often enough. If you did not receive one, how come you came here?

Brandoch and Rin exchanged glances.

“Well, - thought Tamash, - he may be telling her to keep silent. Has a right to. One doesn’t become Dean of Anhoyd by truths”

- I just found a copy of “Dweomer”, Colleague. And here I am. Do we have a place?

- Guess so. Your first assignment, if I may order a Dean around (Brandoch smiled) will be to go see the place His Holiness the Hierophant will be lending or selling or whatever. An old small castle, they used to run a templars and theurgy school there, but castle upkeep was getting too dear. They were getting ready to cede it to some local noble, or raze lest someone makes a robber nest of it.

Tamash reached into his satchel and unrolled a plan.

- Light walls, shallow moat, but it has plenty of barrack rooms and officer quarters. Too much stables and an indoor riding-hall, we’ll convert the last for lectures, and these carriage sheds for laboratories.

- We (Rin nodded with entusiasm) will draw up a list of repairs, modifications and purchases. All my books and equipment will be at disposal.

- Same as mine. And a library I’ve bought for the Club myself, the Auxiliaries don’t seem to care much for it.

As the meal was nearing completion, over quave and honey-roasted nuts Brandoch put down his cup and said:

- Before we leave, there’s a story, Colleague, in your resurrection field.

- Please tell, - asked Tamash and saw Rin bite her lip.

- I have raised someone killed outside of a dungeon.

Tamash clutched his napkin. If he were to suspect anyone could do this, Magister Danath, the theorist and walking encyclopedia of magic would be among the prime suspects… but there was no taint of chaos in him, none of the dark flame that pulsed around Marcille’s soulstone or Lana’s pearly chain.

- You are intrigued.

- For lack of a better word!

- Rather a mundane job, Colleague. We were adventuring with a party, and a gang of robbers set on us soon after we were out of a dungeon. We were carrying loot - a lot of loot, we were weary and outnumbered, - Brandoch shrugged his shoulders, - at first. They had the right tactics, start with taking out the mages, so by the time they ran, those that could, two of ours were dead, including the healer. And another mortally wounded. I cast Dearvis’ Greater Conservation, Colleague Tonda, and we went right back.

- There is a Greater version? Never heard.

- There is, exactly like the spell for conserving food for voyages, but works on the living. Keeps the recipient in suspended animation - no breathing, no heartbeat, no consciousness, no pain or bleeding…

- Must be a drawback? - Tamash could not contain himself and interrupted.

- Of course. A Magister-level caster must maintain deep concentration. Which I managed till we got deep enough, then I released the spell. Could not do anything for the pain, all spent, and…

- It hurt a lot, - said Rin.

Tamash held his breath, understanding.

- My comrade died in my arms. I healed myself, took a rest, healed the wounds of the fighters and rogue, took another rest and once I had the nerve and mana, I raised Rin.

“Well here’s is a story to beat mine, - thought Magister Tonda, - guess they’re fast together since.”

- I can only applaud your knowledge and presence of mind, Colleague Danath. This does not seem applicable to, well, setting up a hospital in the dungen and performing risky surgery.

- Not surgery for diseases in any case, Colleague Tonda. Their slow development leaves a soulprint that will be the one restored. Mutilation’s different, when the soul and mind as well recollects the body as it used to be whole. I had no time to ponder theory, just took all the risk there was.

- I was unconscious, - explained Rin, - so the state of my body was not recorded… - her voice trailed off, - sorry, not an easy story to tell, Magister Tonda, but it must be done. You’d like to know, you have to know what are you dealing with.

- My gratitude. Can I offer you anything else? Drinks? Visit a fine tavern with music? Meet Colleague Droodle?

- Thanks, - said the guests after exchanging glances, - may we see you tomorrow?

***

- Mind giving me a hint, Colleague? - Brandoch smiled, - it’s alchemy.

- Void and abyss, it is, - replied Magister Tonda pondering the polygram inscribed on the slate table in silvery spellchalk with an unfamiliar blueish tinge (did he add ledlevite to the mix?) “This is the celerity contour, - thought Tamash, - these must be stability, but interlocked and with intentional fault lines? Twelve of them?”

- I’m thinking what substance can be used to grow nice large crystals, quick and easy.

- Do they have to be strong? Durable?

- Not at all. Brittle will do, just able to keep shape well.

- Let me think. Some kind of alum, potash I guess will do, shall I fetch a jar?

- Good.

He didn’t have to be told to make a super-saturated solution, in a few minutes Tamash brought a large glass, a cylinder of finest spell-blown quartz and set it into the polygram, over the sign for alum Magister Danath scribed in. Next, Danath powered the pattern, watched the transparent crystals grow before his eyes and ended the transmutation, with a pair of whalebone forceps plucking a dozen clear crystals to dry.

- Like back in my puppy alchemy years, - Tamash shrugged his shoulders, - look, a fancy crystal grew! They don’t detect as magical.

- They aren’t and therefore shouldn’t. Have this, - Brandoch handed him a bronze mask identical to one he put on himself, and Tamash saw its eye holes were plugged with dulithe, - and this, too, - an extra protection laboratory apron of thick buffalo hide.

- You must be kidding. It’s alum. It cannot blow up.

- I am not sure how much energy it retained.

Magister Danath placed the crystals well apart from each other on the table, dropped one into a jar he sealed with wax, another into a steel box, and yet another into a leaden one. Tamash thought he had a box of orihalcum that must be tried - need to tell Brandoch, whatever he was trying to do.

- Now for it, - Brandoch put on a leather mitten to match the apron, picked a pestle from a mortar and brought it down. The struck crystal shattered, and so did every one across the table, in the jar, and, as they saw after opening the covers, in both boxes.

- Yes. I managed to trick them into believing they are the same crystal! Thaumic entanglement! It works! It’s… perfect.

- Sorry, Colleague. I must be lacking vision, - Tamash pulled the mask off, - perfect what?

- Message. Alarm. Trigger. Anywhere. Across the globe. Across the universe. We’ll grow a few more batches and try one here and another in a dungeon.

- Hey… The possibilities are endless. Would you like to try an orihalcum box? I happen to have one… hiding a certain object.

- Ah, chaos, - remarked Magister Danath matter-of-factly, - if I’m right that should not matter. They are not communicating by any form of energy, they simply are one. Are you going down on the next trip? Let’s work out a dungeon testing schedule - and then celebrate!

- I am just coming to terms with the consequences, - Tamash spoke with admiration, - any ship, any army detachment, any dungeon party can be sent along with a crystal! Or several - “mission accomplished”, “need help” and so on!

- “Buy turnips” and “buy beets”, - elaborated the inventor, - they’re cheap to create, a journeyman could manage. Alum costs pennies, am I right? And one should be even able to sweep up the shards and re-dissolve them.

- Yes. Hope you’ll hear them called just “danaths” in a while. I’m proud to have mixed that solution for you. Congratulations, Dean Danath.

- Let it be Brandoch, Tamash.