Book 6. Chapter 25 |
"You are the one who was rude," said the Master of Magic.
Brin had hardly entered the Lumina's front room when the old man set both of his perpetually boggled eyes on Brin and made the statement without preamble. He’d been thinking over different strategies on the walk over for how he wanted to handle this. Quiet and respectful? Gregarious and happy? Or did he want to press his luck. Now, after that reception, he knew he was going to press his luck.
"Perhaps we should sit down first..." said a nervous-looking Lumina.
"Not to you, I wasn't," Brin said, replying to the Master.
Lumina tried again. "We needn't discuss this now, when--"
"You brought illusions into my Tower, impersonating my students," said the Master.
"I summoned them on the public grounds outside your Tower."
"You would have brought them inside."
"You don't know that."
"I was slightly inconveniencing your potential students," said Brin.
The Master thought for a second and then nodded. "I can accept that framing. But still an insult. I traded a barb for a thorn, and yet you, the aggressor, called me rude."
"You turned a harmless prank into a horribly traumatic scene, and put me in a position where I would either need to become your collaborator or expose my secret."
Hogg stood with his arms crossed, amused at the back-and-forth, while Lumina watched in distress. "Brin, surely you don't mean to imply that Master--"
"I've already admitted that it was an offense, however slight. Surely you don't expect an apology," said the Master.
"No. I called it rude and expected that to be the end of it," said Brin.
"I still think some small acknowledgement of fault is appropriate on my part," said the Master.
"I'd rather you not."
"What would be appropriate? Hogg?" asked the Master.
Hogg's completely serious game-face came on when the Master looked his way. "An apologetic shrug while rolling your eyes might do, Master Chaos."
The Master shrugged an apology while smirking a bit to show that admitted fault while making it clear he still thought Brin was overreacting.
"Thank you," said Brin.
"I'll just have them start bringing in dinner, then, if that's settled," said Lumina.
"But it isn’t settled. We still haven't addressed the matter of young Brin's provocation," said the Master.
"Do you want an apology?" asked Brin.
"No. That's not the way things go. You'll get a stern verbal reprimand."
"Can we consider this conversation time served?"
"Not at all. Brin isu Yambul, I firmly disapprove of your use of Mirror Images and glass near the start of the Intake ceremony. Firmly disapprove."
Brin bowed his head. "Yes, sir."
"Now we can call this matter settled," said the Master. He turned to Lumina. “Do you see, my dear? You must take a firm hand with these things.”
Lumina sighed in relief. “Yes, Master.”
“This is why you’ve always been so well behaved. I wouldn’t tolerate anything else!”
“Of course, Master.” She clapped to signal to the servants that they should begin to set the table. Then she waited, hands clasped, while the Master took his seat at the head of the table, before allowing Brin to pull out a chair for her. Brin sat to her left, with Hogg across from them.
The food itself was a strange mix--some of it looked incredibly delectable, while other dishes smelled strongly of rot. He noticed that the Master only accepted morsels from the plates of rot-smelling food, so Brin determined to take an equal amount of each.
While he cut Lumina's meat, she attempted a change of conversation. "Brin has done extraordinarily well on his first day of classes, to hear his teachers tell it. Perfect marks in all respects, which is only to be expected from such a talented young man."
"I'm sure, I'm sure," said the Master. "How do you find the duck, young man?"
Brin hadn't tried the duck yet, so he took a bite. It looked and smelled rotten, and to no one’s surprise, it tasted that way, too. There was a layer of fat so stiff it was nearly crunchy and you had to bite hard to unlock the stingingly sour taste of the meat underneath. At an alarmed look from Lumina, he said, "During the war, we never knew when our next meal was coming, or if it was coming at all. I learned to be grateful for anything I'm given."
"A political answer. You don't like it?" asked the Master.
He felt for Lumina, he really did. He could practically feel how much she wanted this meeting to go well. But what was he supposed to do, lie? "I don't think there's anyone that could like this."
"I like it," said the Master, taking another bite with relish.
"I'm not so sure."
"How do you mean?"
"I mean, I think you've grown accustomed to it, but there's nothing here to really enjoy. I think you enjoy seeing other people struggle," said Brin.
"Perhaps I enjoy the display of skill and artistry. Only a true master [Chef] can produce these flavors without the disease and sickness that ordinarily follow them," said the Master.
Lumina cast Hogg a pleading look, and Hogg nodded. He said, “If aged meat and oil is preferred, then how do you feel about wine? Or better yet, tea?”
“I don’t take wine. Not at my age. Tea is another matter. Yes, I have an excellent taste in tea. Now, don’t get the wrong idea. I won’t say all things improve with age. Men often don’t–”
“[Archmages of Chaos] aside,” Lumina said.
The Master smiled. “Thank you my dear. But tea certainly does.”
“You simply must introduce me to the best tea houses here in Steamshield. I haven’t found any to my liking so far,” said Hogg. He spoke in a much more genteel way than normal, which gave Brin a pretty good idea of what Hogg’s game was here. Careful and polite, just like every other [Mage] in this Tower. He wouldn’t have anything to gain from provoking the Master of Magic, and a lot more to lose. Lumina’s protection might extend to family, but not to a random [Illusionist] she met on a trip once.
“Oh, no I don’t think I can,” said the Master.
“Say no more, I completely understand,” said Hogg.
“No, you don’t. I do not say I will not. I say I cannot. I do not believe there are any tea houses in Steamshield worth the name. Now, take me to Pollisia and then. Then, I tell you, you will have tea you have only dreamed of.”
“I’ll have to make an excursion,” said Hogg.
“Why? I brought some back with me. Urdish Black is the finest tea I’ve ever tasted in my many years. In fact, I keep a bit here in Lumina’s kitchen…”
He began to stand up, and Brin couldn’t help himself. “Count me out. Too fancy–it would be wasted on me.” That earned him glares from both Hogg and the Master.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
Lumina tried again. "Oh, and the book he wrote! Did you have a chance to read it?"
"Yes, I suppose we can call it an acceptable offering," said the Master, tucking into a leg of lamb that oozed greenish fluid when he cut into it.
"Acceptable? I thought it a remarkable work," said Lumina.
"Remarkable that it came from one so young, perhaps. I can admit that I found nothing in it that I could label as flat-out wrong," said the Master.
"Sure even you must have learned something? About the Wyrd?" she pressed.
"I did learn one thing. I learned that the level of talent in this Tower is sorely lacking if there are [Grand Magi] and above who don't consider everything in that book self-evident," said the Master. "Our spells are stronger the more we believe in them. Well, of course they are."
Brin honestly could've just let it go, but he had chosen a strategy for this evening, and he could only stay the course. And Lumina’s clear agitation aside, he thought it was working.
The Master was the type that enjoyed the banter, and he probably didn't have anyone in his life impudent enough to call him out on these things. "There's no 'of course' about it! Why in the world should that be self-evident?"
"It should be evident from the natural trial and error of consistent use."
Brin shook his head. "And it's not that magic is stronger if you believe in it more. It's only the interaction between conflicting magics. And we're not even touching things like debt and ownership.”
"No, no, the third-year lecture series on Authority explains most of that. You'll see in time. I won't repeat those lessons here; I have no intention of giving you special benefits above your peers. If you want my aid, then earn it! But let's go back to your first point: the idea that these benefits in effectiveness only have to do with interactions against other magics. Why do you assume that to be the case? I'm certain I never read it in your little treatise. The [Witches] you learned from are a prime example of this: they choose the time for their workings quite carefully. Always at night, either the witching hour or midnight. They choose the location carefully as well. It's always rotten cellars or marshland woods. Are they simply in love with the aesthetic? Or--"
"You'd be surprised," Brin interrupted.
"Oh?"
"[Witches] are devastatingly superficial."
The Master let out a surprised wheeze of laughter. Then he studiously evened out his face again. "And yet you take so much stock in their opinions on magical theory. I posit that these decisions are not actually fully whimsical, but in fact have a real extrinsic value. Have you thought about what location spiritually and mathematically aligns best with your power? You're glass, so we'll look at protection of vision, carriage of light, hmmm... Adaptability of form..."
The argument turned into a lecture at that point, because while he was willing to debate a point if he actually knew something about it, as soon as the conversation turned to magic he had to admit that he was in the presence of, well, a true master.
The Master of Magic casually explained that Brin would be nearly half again as powerful on a mountaintop than he would at the bottom of a lake, and then began to randomly list through every single possible environment Brin might find himself in, and how it would affect his glass, light, sound, and self-healing magic.
Through training, you have increased the following attribute:
Magic +1
You could train attributes just listening to him talk? This old man was unfair. Brin ate the nice-tasting portions of his meal, finding that he was actually famished, and hung on every single one of the Master’s words. He had a Directed Thread write it all down so he’d be able to go over it all again later, but he still paid rapt attention in the present.
“You’re on your own for Mind. A bit of Mind will help you resist attacks upon your mentality, but I think I see a bit more than I would recommend for a person your age, so no, I shan’t give advice on how to train it further. Except to say what everyone knows, which is that you might seek out crowded places full of emotion and open up whatever mental sense you have there. Carnivals. Plays and [Bard] performances. The orchestra. Only, perhaps not that last one, not in the last sixty years. You won’t remember this, but the conductor used to strike the floor with a staff to keep the time, and things have never been quite the same since they stopped. After Parcini’s disaster of a symphony, they all switched to following a baton with their eyes. And missing it more often than not! No, a firm solid tap to keep the time. That’s what’s needed!”
And just like that, the lesson on magic was over, so Brin was back in the fight. “The baton is clearly superior. If you’re supposed to hear a staff making noise, then they should call it an instrument and write it into the sheet music.”
“They wrote the symphonies with the staff in mind! The modern orchestras are not playing them the way they were meant to be played! And there’s still a banging sound, because now everyone has got it into their heads to put drums in the music. Drums! Like in a Prinnashian public house! And what do you have to say to that?”
“They don’t like drums in Prinnash anymore. They like horns,” said Brin.
“Well, at least there’s one way in which they aren’t a complete failure of a society,” said the Master.
“I know that because I like drums.”
The Master sneered scornfully, in a friendly over-the-top way. “Of course you do.”
“No one wanted to hear my drums.”
“That speaks to their good sense!”
Lumina suddenly stood up. When the rest of them started to shift, she said, “No, no, don’t get up. I only thought that tea might be a good idea after all. And juice for Brin.”
“I’ll assist,” said Hogg.
Brin went right back into it with the Master, who launched into a diatribe about how the youth listened to disrespectful music nowadays. That left Brin wondering if the Master knew about the Kukubaru song. If he did, he was content to let Brin sweat, and Brin certainly wasn’t going to bring it up, just on the off-chance he really didn’t know.
He paid it half an ear, because he was listening in on Hogg and Lumina in the kitchen.
“This is a disaster,” Lumina said, pacing back and forth.
Hogg was calmly setting a teapot to boil, using sound magic through the copper to heat it quickly. “What? No.”
“I’ve never seen Master so… so…”
“Happy,” Hogg finished.
“Do not jest, not now,” said Lumina.
“I’m not. Look at me. Have you ever seen your Master look this happy? He’s loving this. He gets to argue with someone and be superior to a young person. His two favorite things, both at the same time. It’s a good thing, too. He needs this after yesterday. And just listen to him. How many times has he gone off track or forgotten what he was talking about?”
“Twice,” said Lumina.
“Only twice,” said Hogg. “This is good for him.”
“If you’re sure…”
“I am. In fact, I think now is a good time to ask him.”
The two of them returned from the kitchen, carrying tea for the three of them, and juice for Brin. The Master gave Brin a disappointed grimace when Lumina placed it in front of him, and Hogg did the same, mirroring the older man almost completely. The two of them didn’t look much alike, but in manners and expression, they might as well have been the same person, which was no doubt Hogg’s intent.
Hogg spent several minutes pouring praise on the Master’s favorite tea, who was all too pleased to accept it. Brin decided to keep his mouth shut and sip on his juice. Prune, but he didn’t comment on it.
The mood lightened, which meant it was finally time for Lumina to introduce the topic she’d been building up to.
“Master? What are we going to do about Cobol?”
“My dear, for the last time. We don’t need to do anything. Duke Xander of Cobol is no threat to me or you,” said the Master.
“He had [Assassins] try to kill me,” said Brin.
“Did he send [Assassins] to kill you specifically, or did he order [Assassins] to kill anyone they caught spying on his home? You’ll find that distinction makes quite the difference,” said the Master.
Brin shut his mouth and sipped his juice again.
Lumina said, “But the attack on the Tower…”
“Easterlings. And they will be made to feel my displeasure, don’t you worry. I’m calling a friend in from out of town for the occasion,” said the Master.
Hogg cleared his throat. “Your Radiance. I surely am not so well versed in the Tower’s defenses as you, but the Easterling’s entrypoint and their path through the Tower speaks to a certain amount of insider knowledge. Knowledge that only Lumina, you, or certain high-ranking members of the Circle of Water should have access to.”
“For that, I name Arcaena as the culprit,” said the Master.
“She is also one we should discuss,” said Lumina, glancing at Brin.
The Master stared down at him. “Oh, yes, I know all about your little discovery, and yes, I’ve known about the [Witch Queen’s]... proclivities for quite some time. Never to fear, the both of you. None of her copies are in the Tower, either as students or as servants. That I would never allow.”
“But she must have some in the city,” said Lumina.
“Certainly. The scale at which she must operate if she wishes to ascend practically demands it,” said the Master.
“Then what shall we do?”
“I don’t know why I should do anything. This can be considered repayment for my involvement in the war. If Arcaena makes no further actions against my Tower, then neither shall I retaliate. Please don’t resent me too much, child. I have no wish to spend my golden years running hither and thither smashing an endless stream of clones.”
“No, I could never resent you,” said Lumina. She sipped her tea absently, probably having no more taste for it than Brin did. “I just wish there was some way of knowing if any man or woman I pass on the street is secretly her.”
“It will always be a woman. This is Arcaena we’re talking about. She is proud. It will always be an orphan as well. Arcaena would never compel another woman to bear her in the womb. If you want proof of that just look at Arcaena’s population numbers. Did you know her nation used to be equal in numbers to Frenaria? Part of the decline is her insistence on never outlawing Sliproot. She is practically religious on that front.”
“Sliproot–” started Brin.
“A commonly found contraceptive,” murmured Lumina. To her Master, she said, “It’s a start.”
“Oh, and here.” The Master pulled a pocket-sized notepad out of his jacket. It was slightly damp–he was sweaty. He flipped it and scribbled something down. “You’ll need to improve your understanding of , , and for this to work.”
Brin was pretty sure those were three different conjugations of the Language word for Sunset. The rest of the spell looked extremely complicated and it would require someone with access to a lot more elements than Brin to be able to cast it.
The Master ripped out the paper and handed it to Lumina. “This should reveal the truth, should you find someone you think is a copy. Don’t use this too casually. I shouldn’t like her to develop a counter.”
Lumina took the paper, examining it with worship in her eyes. “Thank you, Master.”
“Think nothing of it. I should be off. But we will repeat this, I think. You’ll need a hand in restraining this unruly Arcaenean foundling, if nothing else. Shall we make it twice a week?”
“Yes, I’d like that,” Lumina said distractedly.
Behind the Master, Hogg smiled in victory so widely that he closed his eyes. He was all business again when the Master turned around to shake his hand. “[Mage] Hogg. You shall be permitted to attend, should your schedule allow.”
“Thank you, Your Radiance.”
Then he left, and the three of them waited until they were sure the door was shut before letting out a collective sigh of relief. For better or for worse, Brin had finally met the Master of Magic, and survived.