039 – Pactical Magic And Fight Training

Journal of Steven Caplan: Day 38

At last, a high mountain range. Got to watch for late season avalanches.

Rox entered the work room to clean it, and found bits of cord and string laid out on the work table, arranged by size. Yesterday had been an extensive conversation on what The Sorceress called resonance. Part of the summary was that material things had a kind of memory about them that magic could use; for instance small bits could be used to magically emulate the effects of having and using the whole, spells could be transmitted from one bit of a broken thing to another bit of that broken thing. A previous lesson was that many times small bits of stuff were used to focus the mind, and better organize the energy of the magic. Rox guessed that today would be a drill on using the bits of cord to magically emulate the whole cord, or to put magic on one part and pass it to another.

As Roxanne swept the room, she came back to the dressing mirror under the silk cover. The Sorceress had essentially confirmed that, while being itself magically inert, the mirror was used in some of her spells from time to time, including looking at things a distance away. She had yet to teach Rox how to do this.

Rox wanted to try to see Diana and Alex with it, as well as Steven. But still did not yet know if she knew how to do so. She felt that she began to understand feeling the energy, ‘mana’ The Sorceress called it. Then forming the idea in her head, clearly, of what she wanted to have happen. The problem she kept encountering was that she kept jumping over intermediate steps to the conclusion. The Sorceress was trying to teach her all the intermediate steps, and the why's, not just the how's. So the desire to see had to wait.

A secondary issue in the lessons had to do with The Sorceress herself. Her specialties and perceptions were focused in energy. She always in every lesson stressed control of energy, which for her was easy from practice, and also a necessity. For Rox, this was more a lesson in focus and management. In the theory lessons, The Sorceress had mentioned that a disciplined practitioner could both control the flow in their own use, but also the control of others flows of energy. One could control the direction and volume and block this flow. This could be used to dispel spells, or patterns of energy, or to create spells, or patterns of energy. These patterns ranged from destructive, through neutral, to empowering.

After lunch, The Sorceress came and began first by drilling Rox on the types of cord she had. Each was made of a different fiber, and good for specific things. This Rox already knew, if only innately from growing up, and what Steven had taught in their time together. As expected, they drilled both on using the bits to emulate the whole, and on using the bits to pass energy on to the other parts.

But this part of the lesson went quickly, and then The Sorceress went into an explanation of what the cord bits could be used for, as ingredients of more complex spells.

She then had Rox collect a few ingredients from prior lessons.

“Now, hold them in your hand. What are they and what are they for?” The Sorceress had moved Rox to the middle of the room.

Rox looked at the bits. “Fine fiber cord, elastic, good for climbing. A small metal hook, good for securing things. A bit of resin, good for making things sticky. A bit of thread, good for binding things together.”

“Good. Now look up. See the ring. That is your target.” The Sorceress pointed at a ring secured to the keystone of the vaulted arch two stories above them in the center of the room.

“Now, pull together the mana; using the objects and ideas about them create a climbing line: a grapnel at the end, the cord secured to it and tied closed by the thread, and tacky enough to hold onto via the resin.”

Rox concentrated chanting quietly in the language she spoke with The Sorceress instead of English, she gathered energy, feeling it flow as a trickle of tingling through her, and focus and swirl around in her hand, going through and organizing in the four things in her hand. She had a question, and almost lost her concentration. “Do I need to physically toss it?”

“Only if it helps to actualize in your mind. Otherwise you just need to shape it as there with your mind. Let it draw as much mana as it needs, don’t try to force it, just be a conduit.” The Sorceress stood face to face with Rox.

Rox focused, felt a flow of mana-energy through her, and there the line was, large enough to comfortably wrap her hand around, hanging in front of her from a hook in the ceiling. It glowed slightly, and tingled in her growing sense of magic. She noticed that the thread, resin and cord were gone from her hand, but the hook remained.

“Now, climb it.” The Sorceress backed off, giving Roxanne room.

Rox dropped the hook as she took the rope in hand, and felt a tingle rather than the rough surface of a fibrous rope. A rational part of her mind was telling her that this was impossible. But over the last weeks that part of her mind had increasingly been put to silence. Rox took the rope in both hands, and pulled her feet off the ground, then pinched the rope between her feet, and reached up to pull again. As she went to release her second hand, to start up in earnest, Rox felt her concentration slip, the energy of the rope dissipate and she fell a short distance to land on her feet, and collapse to sitting, hard. Her back hurt briefly from landing on the stone floor.

The Sorceress gave Rox a moment to collect herself then asked “What happened?”

Rox got to her feet. “I am not sure. I started to climb, and then the spell dissipated.”

“Were you concentrating on the spell, or on climbing?”

Rox thought a moment. “Climbing, my lady.”

The Sorceress nodded, remembering her own struggles in school. “That is why you fell. You let go of the spell and it ceased.”

Rox rubbed her rump, aching slightly where she had landed hard.

The Sorceress moved back to the table, trying to decide what to do next. “You needn’t worry to hard yet. This is a lesson that I had to go through several times as a school girl, before I was good enough at dividing my attention to keep a spell going and do something else. Like juggling, eventually it gets to be natural.”

Rox picked up the hook from the floor. “How high did you get?”

“The first time I did it, I did not even get to where I could fall. It took a month of practice before I could get my own height off the ground and keep the spell going. After that, I got to the bell the instructor had set up. There was one girl in class who realized she was afraid of heights, and broke her leg falling from that high after getting up there.”

Rox put the hook on the table. “My lady, where did the cord, thread, and resin go?”

The Sorceress “You noticed. Good. Most un-living organic stuff disintegrates as a spell is cast through it. The best theory is that it looses it physical cohesion as its pattern is put into the spell. Metals and most rocks don’t. It is figured it has to do with the way the matter is organized in it, and that stone and metal was never alive.”

Rox though about this. “Metal is essentially a crystal; I suppose stone is similar, whereas the organic stuff is a cellular arrangement. I guess that if something is alive, it has energy to draw on to maintain its form? So while the cellular stuff can be rearranged by life, metals and stones are not rearranged thus. So the magic disintegrates the organic in copying its pattern, but not the inorganic.”

The Sorceress nodded. “That is the theory.”

Roxanne turned and leaned against the table. “You have taught me a bunch of fundamentals, how to do a handful of house keeping spells. I cobbled together a spell on that jar that reassembled it to its base, wherever the bulk of it was, though that has dissipated. I just climbed half my height up a magic rope. What else do I need to know to use that mirror?”

The Sorceress turned to face the mirror, under its cover, putting aside the other idea that was not forming despite her efforts. “You want to see your kids.”

”And if possible, my husband.” Rox almost stepped toward the mirror.

The Sorceress thought for a moment. ”The spell I have just taught you, about the rope, is a second year student’s spell. Using the mirror is something that many adults can’t do correctly. But you are determined. How much do you know about light?”

Rox sensed meaning more than the surface in this question. “Insofar as its interaction or governing by magic, I can’t say that I know anything.”

The Sorceress smiled. “Admitting your ignorance is always a good start. I do not have the spells to use it as you wish memorized. It will take me some time to find where I have them written. Tomorrow, after your chores, you may look through my index…”

Rox interrupted. “My lady, I have not been taught your script. While I can read and write in my own language, I cannot in yours.” Rox felt her own hopes smothered as she said this.

The Sorceress, unused to being interrupted watched as Roxanne slumped. She started again. “Perhaps so, but if I write out the characters surely you can compare them.”

The Sorceress watched Roxanne perk up a bit, at this. “Now, about light…”

The lesson went on for a while, and Roxanne learned several new ideas, and a few old ones that she had always considered to be preposterous or new age mumbo-jumbo.

*          *          *

Caspian, Steven, and Abey hunted their way through the mountains, keeping as many pelts as they could. Steven lost three bolts, but managed to take down and harvest the local equivalent of a deer. This had required making a larger frame to stretch the hide on, and a travois to carry the usable meat. This was all a bit awkward to carry. As they crossed the highest pass of the range they encountered snow, and a brief spring snow storm. This only caused discomfort rather than actual hindrance. When it was time to camp Steven and Caspian would build a lean-to and all three would huddle under it keeping each other warm in their blankets and accumulated scrub.

They descended into the foot hills and the farms, and warmer climate, a bit dirty from their traveling. They kept the pelts and other usable pieces of what they harvested to have something to sell. After a day of travel past the farms, and small villages, they approached the outer walls of a city.

*          *          *

When Linell next showed up for her lesson, she had a black eye, and favored her right foot. Rox took her to task for this.

“Well, there are a few bullies in the older pages.” Linell acted like all children telling something that she was afraid she was going to be in trouble for.

Rox stood with her fists at her hips, waiting. “And?”

Linell tried to melt into the floor. “At lunch yesterday, one of the older ones tried to bully one of the younger ones.”

Rox waited patiently. Linell did not want to say more.

“Don’t the Guards or people in charge of the Pages, or other stewards move to stop this?” Rox asked, not knowing anything about how this might be handled, or even where the Pages took lunch.

Linell shook her head. “No, in some cases the bully’s are recruited by the army, or navy. Others simply graduate from the pages and go home, as we all will when old enough.”

“So how did you get a black eye?” Rox asked patiently, practicing the patience she had learned dealing with her own children.

But Linell did not want to tell.

“Were you the bully?”

Linell moved her head in what Rox had come to recognize as the negative answer. “No. the bully tripped my little brother, so I stood up and slugged him. The bully’s friend hit me then, knocking me into the table. I got back up and kicked him. Then the Page Master came and had to pull me off him. I was told that if I get in another fight, I will be sent home.”

Tears were starting to well in the girls eyes.

Rox put her hands down and knelt, to look at the girl closer to eye level, and wrapped her in a hug. The girl went formally stiff, and Rox let go, and let the girl move back to arm’s length.

“What happened to the bullies?” Rox let go of the girl, who seemed more comfortable standing in front of her.

“The one that I kicked had to go see a healer. The other just got up and was told to leave me and my brother alone.” Linell seemed a bit more relaxed, since Rox was not trying to punish.

Rox looked at Linell. “So, do you want to learn how to block punches, so that you don’t get hit in the face again?”

Linell had sore forearms when she left.

040 – Local Bullies

Late that morning after completing her chores, Rox paged through one bound volume of The Sorceress’s books, looking for a set of characters that matched a set on a piece of paper that had been left for her. Rox recognized it as an alphabet instead of pictograms, and thought this was very helpful. That The Sorceress had said her index was chronological instead of alphabetic was not. After an hour of looking, she finally found the set of characters, and set the book aside, slipping the paper into its pages with the end sticking out. Rox left the work room, to prepair for lunch.

As she walked the hall, Linell was dragged into the wing by the Page Master, as the stewards showed up for lunch.

He was an average sized man, of no build whatsoever. Rox was glad no one here seamed to know what a comb-over was, or this man might have one over the top of his bald head. She was annoyed that he seemed to look straight ahead at her breasts as he spoke at her. He kept one hand fastened around Linell’s wrist.

“Linell tells me you are teaching her to fight.” His higher pitched voice fit Rox’s already formed stereotype of the man. He reminded her of Diana’s math teacher

Rox smiled. “Yes, I am. Where I am from I teach this to many children her age.”

“Do you teach then to pick fights and start brawls?” His clipped tone amused Rox.

“No. I teach then to avoid them when they can; win them when they can’t; and stand up to the bully while protecting the less able.” Rox kept herself as conversational as she could.

She looked at Linell. Her knuckles on her hands were raw, and one was bleeding. She had food smeared on her uniform, and some in her hair.

“Has Linell been in another fight? Was it the same bully or some of his thug cronies?”

The Page Master tried to puff himself up, the volume of his voice rising as well. “None of My Pages are thugs.”

Roxanne did not know the full power structure or arrangement of things in this palace. Nor did she really know how much trouble she was or was not causing by teaching Linell. But she did know that bullies were a fact of life, in whatever form, and that she would always stand up to them, and help others to do the same.

“Of course not. Children are never that way, unless taught to be aggressive, are they?”

He started to get more upset. “That is not your concern, or the issue. You will stop teaching Linell how to beat up on the others.”

“She is not teaching Linell to beat up on the other Pages.” A new voice did the equivalent of throwing a bucket of ice water on the Page Master. He turned suddenly.

Roxanne turned to the doors of the wing. The Sorceress stood there flanked by two of the Palace guard.

“My Lady.” Rox said in greeting.

The Sorceress strode forward with four other pages, all young boys, in tow behind her.

“Mistress Harem,” the Page Master squeaked out, surprised to see her here.

The Sorceress strode forward. “Master Page.”

Rox realized that The Sorceress was taller than the man.

The Sorceress looked Linell over, as she stopped, placing the Page Master in the middle between herself and Rox. Linell smiled the uncomfortable smile of one hoping a champion has just arrived.

“Master Page, you wish for my apprentice to stop teaching young Linell to defend herself from bullies?” Her tones were of one asking a simple question to a child.

“Yes. This girl had been in two brawls in as many days and …”

The Sorceress interrupted him. “Did she win?”

“Two other pages have needed healing…”

“Did she start these fights, or were they in response to bullying?”

“As far as I am concerned, she started them, and now…”

“I see.” She stopped his rant before it could get up steam. “And your side of the story, young lady?” The Sorceress looked at Linell, dismissing the Page Master to silence.

“Three of Toby’s friends tried to attack me with their lunch plates. I kicked one in the knee, then slugged the next, and hit the third in the face.” Linell slightly smiled.

The Sorceress stood slightly taller. “Master Page, this is not the first complaint against Toby that has come to our attention. Does this need further attention from The Court, or will you be dismissing him yourself?”

The Page Master stuck his lower lip out in frustration, and clenched his jaw. Then finally he spat out some words.

“As you wish.” He started to stomp out, dragging Linell roughly.

The Sorceress stopped the Page Master with her voice again. “Master Page, Linell stays. There is need of her here, now.”

He threw her wrist out of his grip and stomped away. The four pages behind the Sorceress scattered out of his way. The Sorceress turned a stern eye on them.

“Not one word of gossip, or I will have it out of your hides, boys.”

They all looked at her smiling. Collective “Yes, Ma’am’s” were followed by the four young pages scattering into the palace.

The Sorceress took a breath and blew it out. “I’m going to hear about this later.”

She took Linell in tow. “Apprentice, let's get this young lady patched up and fed.”

Roxanne performed some healing magic on Linell, under The Sorceress’s guidance. The Sorceress turned this into a lesson on healing magic. Her hand was closed up with the two dislocated fingers reset. The black eye was accelerated in its healing, as was her bruised foot.

Linell joined them for lunch, and was as formal as The Sorceress in her manors. As they talked over lunch, it came out that Toby was the Page Master’s nephew, and had become a careless trouble maker who had been shielded by the Master. As for the three cronies, two could be reformed once Toby was away, and the third was wanted by the Army.

*          *          *

Journal of Steven Caplan: Day 41

Finally, some proof we are going the right way.

On entering the city the three first took their hides and leftover meat to the proper merchants and sold them for a tidy sum. After cleaning up in a public bath, they decided to split up and do their shopping separately. Abey went after food and other provisions. Caspian would take Steven and show him some better quality weapons, also more expensive. Also to see whether there was anything else for him to change out of his costume.

At one stall Steven found a weapon smith, and a larger crossbow. After some bartering and haggling Steven was able to trade up to the better crossbow. This one was closer to a size that fit Steven’s frame.

As Steven walked away, he realized that the purse he had carried on his belt was now missing. A quarter of his local money was gone that fast. Steven quickly shook himself briefly, taking stock of the weights in his coat and on his back, then turned and stepped to Caspian at another booth, in irritation. Steven stopped and stood by Caspian.

“I’ve just been robbed. My purse is gone.” Steven kept his tone as conversational as he could.

Caspian nodded. “Right, lets get out of the way and check over the rest to see if anything else is.”

The two men moved through the throng and into a café, then around the side of the porch between buildings. Steven put his crossbow onto the table, and then he unbuckled his backpack straps and swung it off. Next was his coat. Steven looked through the bag, and nothing was missing. Then he went through the coat, and there was nothing missing from it. He patted his belt down and nothing else was missing.

“Anything besides the one purse missing?” Caspian looked around, and did his best to block out prying eyes.

“No. Just the one purse. All the rest is still here.” Steven picked the coat back up and put it on, and settled it. Then he put the bag back on, and settled it.

“Well, teach me to leave my money visible,” Steven remarked dryly, as he shouldered his new crossbow.

They walked out into the street, and continued their shopping. A light misty rain swept past, as the afternoon moved on. Caspian and Steven were in a minor hurry to meet Abey at the town gate. She had volunteered to get the food, as she found Caspian’s cooking passable, and Steven’s just too rough.

As they crossed a market, they passed a few wagons, with a cage attached to one. Caspian just kept going past the group. Steven glanced, and almost came to a stop, staring at the locked cage with five naked people. He took a few steps farther and saw some rings and other things on a merchandise table. One of the rings glinted and caught his eye, causing a double take. He stopped, and took a closer look. The two platinum bands, one with a medium sized diamond set low into the band, the other matching snug against it.

“Wait a moment,” Steven muttered.

A man stepped up to Steven’s side, as he picked up the rings and turned them over. There was that one rub mark…

“Can I help you?” the voice from his left said.

Steven turned to face a well dressed man. He was about Steven’s comparative build and almost his height, with thick dark hair graying at the roots, and tied into a tail. On his belt he had a small purse, a ring of keys, and a knife. Steven quickly understood what this man’s employ was, and found himself offended by this man, and the idea of a slave trade.

Caspian stopped short, realizing that Steven had stopped. He turned around as his magic senses blazed telling him something important was about to happen. They rarely did this: Caspian’s talents were more of the artistic and technical magic’s; he could sense when things had been used for magic, or been the target of it; people casting magic within a certain scope of distance always got his attention, and so forth. Precognition and its related fields were not usually in his scope, though like all practitioners, he was subject to particularly strong happenings. This was one.

Caspian approached and reappraised the arrangement of the situation. The trader had three carts in a row; the one on the far left as they were faced had the slave pen attached to it. On the other end was one with a merchandise table. Caspian guessed that, as he had not seen any other slavers in this city, this must be the only slaver in the area. Therefore this was the most likely person for the bad guys to have sold Roxanne to, had that been the actual disposition of her.

Steven had some rings in his hand looking them over then looked up, as a man of reasonable size with a salt-and-pepper ponytail and mustache, and rough looks, stood to his left.

“Yes.” Steven held the rings out in his palm. “Where did you get this?”

“Why do you ask?” He moved to take it back, but Steven closed his hand to prevent this.

“Because it is my wife’s wedding ring.”

Caspian took hold of Steven’s arm, and turned him from the merchant, to face him. Caspian addressed Steven in English. “Give me the rings. I will take care of this. Get out of here.”

“But,” Steven started to protest.

“But nothing. You will cause a scene we don’t need. Trust me. Give me the rings.” Caspian held his hand out, still holding Steven’s arm with the other. He spoke evenly, but his countenance had visibly hardened. Cyrril had reared up from his lounging, and fanned his wings a bit, hissing in agitation.

Steven looked at Caspian, and back at the merchant. Then put the rings in Caspian’s hand and scowled. “I want these back where they belong.”

Steven stalked away, carrying a cloud of anger with him.

Caspian put the rings down on the board with the rest, and Cyrril dropped down to crouch on the board and held on to the rings.

Caspian waited for Steven to be out of earshot. He then turned to the merchant.

“How much for the rings?”

The merchant’s eyes twinkled a moment, as he sized up Caspian and also Steven’s reaction. “How much are you willing to pay?”

Caspian glanced briefly around again. Then lunged at the man, grasped him under his jaw with his left hand, and pinned him against his cart, his toes off the ground. The man’s hands went to Caspian’s hand, trying to pry it loose. Caspian finished his muttering of a spell feeling energy flow from his staff, and across the man as he spoke.

“I will pay you your life, your livelihood, and fair market value for the set of rings. Is that agreeable?”

The man pried at Caspian’s hand a bit more, gurgling a bit, so Caspian thumped him against the cart once.

“I asked if that was agreeable!”

The man looked like he wanted to snarl a bit, but couldn’t say anything. Caspian knew that he had not yet won the bargain so he continued to hold the man.

“I can keep this up for some time. All you need to do is say ‘yes’.” Caspian’s staff turned to point under his left arm at the man’s wife who was approaching from around the wagon.

--Stand there, ma’am. And be silent-- Caspian said this in Elfish. Then changed back to the local language. “Your husband and I are bargaining.”

She froze in her tracks, unsure of the situation, but wanting to help her husband. However, she found that she could not use her legs, or her mouth.

Caspian turned back to the man. “What is fair market value of that set of rings?”

The man struggled a bit, and then seemed to give in. “Fifteen in gold.” He still tried to pry at Caspian’s hand to no avail. But Caspian was not trying to choke him. Just hold him there.

“All right. I will give you sixteen in gold for the rings.”

At that, Cyrril took the two rings, and flew away.

“Now. Tell me what you did with the woman you took them from.”

The man gurgled a bit more, as he tried to get Caspian to let go.

“It’s no use trying to lie, or get me to let go. Just tell me what I want, and I will be on my way.”

“There have been several women.”

“Yes. But you would remember this one. She would be very tall, and slender. Almost half-elven in features and frame. About four or five weeks ago.”

The man struggled a bit within himself. Caspian noticed his wife thinking a bit, and then nodding at her husband. The man spoke again, sounding a bit strained at having a hand at his throat. “She was given in tax. To cross the boarder.”

Caspian plopped the man down to his feet, and let go, and stood his staff up, releasing the woman.

“Thank you.” He then reached into his purse, and pulled out a handful of gold coins. He counted and dropped these into the board that the rings and trinkets were on.

“Eighteen, for your services.” Caspian then walked away as casually quick as he could.