076 – Passing And Being Listened To

Rox had to draw on her past personal training to hold her balance and not collapse as she suddenly felt as if she had run a marathon in ten seconds. After a moment, her equilibrium reestablished, Rox looked around.

Master Iver was scratching with a quill pen on a sheet of paper.

Rox waited until he finished, then spoke up. “What did you find?”

Master Iver turned to her, and held out a cane to her. “That you inherent ability is approximately equal to your progenitors. This is a mild surprise, as most cross-breeds usually loose that in successive generations.”

Rox took the cane in one hand and his proffered hand in her other and stepped the long wobbly step off the stool. “When The Sorceress did this same general thing in Veradale, it was not anywhere near so intense.”

“My apologies for that. I expect I used a much more detailed and advanced spell than was used on you previously.  It has told me several things. Do you know much about genetics?”

“Some,” Rox answered.

“Well, your genetics show you to be exactly one half elf. If I were to unravel your genetic molecule, one half of it would be of human stock, the other of elf stock. This is mildly unusual, as most cross-breeds eventually dilute in favor if which ever side is most dominant in their lineage.

“This has also revealed that your potential for magic is that of your progenitors, not just of your immediate ones, but of the lineage that my top student Rodira, and I myself, are from. I have noted this and will pass it on in my report to Sharlot and Rasgan.”

Master Iver looked at her with a studied neutral. “Now, the questions are: how much do you know? How much do you need to unlearn? How much can I teach you in the time available? And how much are you willing to do?”

At this last, Rox smiled, remembering a similar circumstance in Veradale. “Don’t tell me what I can’t do. Though you may want to advise me on why I should not do some things.”

Master Iver almost smiled at this. “Your progenitor told me almost that, once.”

As he turned to use the counter to keep from falling as he knelt on the floor, Rox waited a moment then asked the hanging question. “And what happened next?”

He turned to her, looking her almost in the eye from his knees. “She blew a building from its foundations. Help me clean up this mess.”

Both of them crawled on their hands and knees as they picked up the few bits of stuff, and wiped up the chalk from the floor. He started into her knowledge of theory as they tidied. He did not ask her to belabor anything, but simply quizzed on what she had learned. She started with what The Sorceress had taught her, and continued with what Caspian had taught.

The mess back on the table, he got onto a stool, and she likewise, and he asked what spells she had cast on her own, and how well. She mentioned her spell on her children, and then moved into what she had done since arriving on planet. This brought Rox to the tools: the chains and the staff. Rox explained about them, as best she could. He examined the staff, noted a familiarity with its design, but was otherwise unimpressed. He checked the chains over, and again was not impressed.

“Tools are useful, but the best measure of skill is in how they are used. Time to go show me what you can do.”

Master Iver led Rox to a larger room with assorted things piled about its walls. Rox felt she was in a dojo or similar training room. The next while Master Iver quizzed her on her practical magic skills, by having her do. Rox showed herself to be a shaky novice by his standards, but game to try all she could do. First she was able to light any candle or torch on command. She could push or pull things with ease, in focused efforts or wide areas. She could sense the flow of power, but was not yet using that sense as effortlessly as her others. She could shield herself, and anchor herself with her shields. She could do some low level energy projection, i.e. small energy balls of assorted temperatures and destructive capacities.

The main problem, he told her at the end of the lesson, was that she kept skipping the buffers that normally kept spells from getting out of control. She was putting plenty of power into the spells, and they were generally doing what she wanted, but she was akin to trying to manage a river as one would an irrigation ditch.

At her insistence, he let her put on the chains, and then run through her spells again. He noticed that the chains acted as amplifier and buffer to her efforts. But she was less dependent on them than he feared she might be. They did nothing for her senses.

Finally he called an end to the lesson, citing it was approaching lunch. Master Iver led her back to the work room, and sat on a stool as he began to write on a piece of paper.

“I am instructing Master Eklund to have your chains reworked. As they are, they do adequate, but they could be better. Allow him to do so. I can correct any damage his journeymen do to the magics on them.”

He pulled another sheet and began to fill it out. “Have you been introduced to what a Talent is?”

Rox nodded. “Yes, Master Iver.”

“Good. I will have one here this evening. Stop by on your way from Master Eklund’s. I am not sure which will be showing up. That is irrelevant. The Talent will be imparting into your mind a lot of information in a very short period of time. Have your mind at rest when you come, things will go easier that way. We are done for now. You may show yourself out.”

He kept writing as the young male elf reappeared, carrying a tray with lunch arrayed on it. He set the tray on a table and began unloading it.

“What about language, Master Iver? You said I would need the local language for Master Eklund, but we have not addressed it. It seems to be the one thing you deliberately avoided addressing.”

Master Iver did not look up from where he had paused in his writing. “What do you propose be done about it?”

Rox had taken time to consider this the night before, and had her options ready. “Well, there are three methods: teaching me as one does a child, but that will take too long. Using magic in one of two methods that have been used on me previously, to give me at least a temporary command of the language. Or that Talent you mentioned installing the knowledge in me. However that is not viable for the moment, as you say the Talent is not here just now.

“In relation to the magic forms, Caspian tried to cast a spell on me, and my husband, that would draw on the minds around to glean their language knowledge and copy it into me. But apparently the spells intrinsic to this city have not allowed that process to take permanent hold the way that the same spell did previously to provide me with the language of those I was among in Veradale. As I stand, I can comprehend the local language as well as every other language I know. But I cannot speak the local language. I have comprehended this language every time I have heard it spoken, even before I had it introduced into my mind by magic.

“Mallob suggested I take this up with you, when I asked him about this yesterday.”

Rox stood her ground and waited, uncertain what nonverbal cues she was seeing Master Iver give. Master Iver looked at his assistant, apprentice, whatever who simply continued setting up lunch for two and then sat waiting for Master Iver to join or give leave to begin.

Finally Master Iver gave his almost smile. “Fine.”

He turned to Rox and pointed at her, chanting in quiet rapidness. She felt a spell organize around him, then transfer to her.

He put his hand down. “You evidently have not realized that the spell you put on your children, and your mother put on you, was not a new spell of your own creation, but rather a transfer of an existing spell. This spell was created and cast by Rodira on herself, then transferred to her offspring. You did not need to mention it much, as it is most likely the typical spell done to change physical features, and runs off the energy of the current host. Knowing what I knew of my student, she probably put her knowledge of a few things into the transference. This would include her fluency with languages. I surmise by the age of the spell, or by her choosing, the spoken fluency has not obtained. That is simple enough to fix, but as you have reported, it will not permanently take if the spell is cast within the boarders of this city.”

Master Iver paused. “The talent this evening is apparently the quickest remedy. In the mean time, I have restored the spoken fluency, from the mages previous spell. It may not last long, but should last at least through the afternoon.”

Rox made a conscious effort to use the local language now. “Thank you, Master Iver.”

He finally let the smile out, briefly. “You are welcome, Student Roxanne.”

He turned to his lunch and his notes, and she to the door.

Rox went outside, and was startled briefly by how much brighter it was outside than inside. Blinking her eyes to adjust, she looked around and spotted the same cab from earlier, and had it take her home, for lunch and her gear.

Lunch was unremarkable, as was the trip back to the shop of Master Eklund. As she went, Rox felt that this was a bit more superfluous than the meetings she had been subjected to. But she was willing to humor things. She had packed up all her clothes she had worn on the trail and the gowns and under things that had been made in the last few days here.

She was wearing her skirt this day, as her trousers had been damaged during a sparing session with Caspian and Steven; the inseam on the crotch had been ripped out, and there was not enough material to properly repair it a third time.

The shop had bolts of fabric on tables and shelves to one side, rolls and laid-out furs and leather to the other. There were a few elves gossiping, as they purchased fabric. Rox was shown to the back area of the shop, and between a pair of tables chest-high to Rox.

A younger elf approached. “You are the niece of Sharlot?”

Rox nodded through the pile in her arms. “Yes I am.”

“Good. You can lay out all your things here. The Master will be with you shortly. He is helping to fit an unruly child.”

Rox put her pile down, and then lay everything out. The four gowns, white, blue burgundy and motley; then the elf foundation garments with five of the thongs. Rox had anticipated being told to strip again, so she had put on a pair of spandex shorts with one of the elf-thongs under it under her skirt. She put down the stockings and slippers that came with the gown next to them. Then she put down her freshly washed tunics, her irreparable trousers, her poncho, her spandex bras and shorts, her socks, and her leather equipment in its various subgroups. As Rox put it down, she spread it out just to keep it in discrete groups. She had not brought her bow or arrows. The tailor who had made the four gowns and other things showed up with a list of Rox’s measurements.

Rox was leaning against the table as this older female elf approached.

“Good day, young lady.”

Rox inclined her head at the taller elf. “Good day, Ma’am. Are you to help here?”

“Yes and no,” the Tailor responded. She put her list of numbers down, and then looked at Rox’s trousers. She picked them up and examined the seams, and the fabric.

“What happened?” She had the trousers inside out, looking at the repaired and ripped out seam.

“Jumping high kick split the seam the first time; a dodge the second time; a kick the third time. By then, as you can see, there was not enough good fabric to repair the seam. If it was constructed the way my clothes at home are, with a piece of fabric here in the form of a bellows, it would not have ripped.

Rox described what she meant using a scrap of fabric, as the Tailor watched intently. As Rox finished, she noticed that a tall, skinny older male elf had shown up and was respectfully watching.

The tailor turned to the older elf. “Master Eklund.”

“Master Senisith.”

“This delightful young woman was just explaining how these trousers were not constructed correctly, and how they could be.”

“So I observed as I approached.” He turned from the tailor to Rox. “You have a letter of introduction?”

Roxanne produced the letter that she had earlier presented to Master Iver. Master Eklund did not even give it a first look. He took it and set it aside.

“So much for formalities. Now, tell me young lady, what can we really do for you?”

077 – Rox Shows Her Worth

Roxanne floated out of the shop; this was the most enjoyable time she had spent with the residents of this city so far. Master Eklund had a tempering influence on Master Senisith. As a result they were almost completely non-condescending. Master Eklund had spent the majority of his life out of Shalaia, and enjoyed dealing with humans, for their diversity of designs and the dynamics that each generation brought.

Master Senisith was only recently in her Mastery, and was looking to leave Shalaia to go east for a time. But her family was an impediment to immediate departure; which family Rox had already met some of.

As they discussed things, Rox initially wanted little done. She wanted the trousers repaired or redesigned, and maybe a second set. But otherwise she was already content with her gear. Somehow these elves got Rox into ‘sky’s the limit thinking’ and asked her what she would do if she was at home.

This ended with Rox saying that she would start with a different design of outfit, which she could explain from memory. The one thing she really wanted was boots from home. But those were out of the question. New boots could be made here, easily enough. The other thing she wanted was a night gown.

After some talking, Master Senisith announced she would replace the trousers, and make anything that Roxanne requested. But if Roxanne was content with what she had, there was no point in replacing what worked. And she would get a nightgown or two.

Master Eklund, for his part, would see to the boots, and replace the leather girdle which Rox was disappointed with. As for her gold chains, they could have these remade and made more publicly presentable, and have a mage work them over.

Rox walked back to Master Iver’s shop. She did not pay much attention to anyone around her, her mind elsewhere.

As she got to the door of Master Iver’s the back of the building was rocked by an explosion that blew several large panels out of the wall and roof, smoke plumes following. One of the panels about as wide and tall as an average elf blew out of the wall above Rox, broke from some restraint cords that otherwise held it and tumbled out into the street, stopping the traffic. The sound was not loud enough to ring ears, but was enough to startle.

Rox sensed magic in operation about the panel, channeling energy up. She also remembered the rule of thumb that smoke usually meant that magic had gone wrong.

The door opened inward, and Rox was unable to budge it for a bit. Finally a sound of something moving within and the door was opened by the Assistant Rox had encountered earlier. The front of the young elf was covered in soot.

Rox looked him up and down as the young elf just leaned on the door breathing fresh air.

“Is everything o.k.?’

The elf looked at Rox, and coughed as he tried to get his voice going. After a futile moment, he motioned that Rox enter.

At this point, Rox realized that there was apparently no one coming to investigate why a building had unexpectedly blown its windows open. She picked her way in, noticing that there was plenty of light entering the building through the blown out panels.

Earlier there had been only the upper level windows letting in sun light. Now there were more openings all about the same size as the one from the front of the building missing what Rox guessed were blow-out panels. Smoke hung in the air turning everything inside a bit gray. Anything that could be pushed was against outer walls. Master Iver was leaning against a counter, perched on a stool, breathing though a handkerchief. Like his Assistant, his front was covered in soot.

Rox walked up to him, waving her hand to clear the smoke. “Are you alright?”

Master Iver coughed, and looked a bit stunned.

Rox thought about what needed to happen, and how she could make it do so. She sized up the building and focused her magic abilities. She drew on the principles she had been taught, and started first the magic and then the air in the building moving from the street side through to the back and out the blow-out panels. Shortly the magical local breeze cleared the smoke, and the soot pattern on every surface showed more or less what happened.

Rox left the breeze going after Master Iver was finally able to breath easy. She saw that the Assistant was also breathing easier at the door. She started to look for a sink or other water source to allow the elves to rinse their mouths out.

Shortly a distinguished looking nondescript clothed human showed up. He stood about average sized for all the locals Rox had met, looking straight ahead into her chest. He paused and appraised the Assistant, who still leaned on the front door frame. 

-Is everything well, here?-

Rox had to double take. “Did you just say that?”

The man looked briefly at Rox, as he surveyed the shop.

-Yes. Is everything well, Master Iver? It looks like you had another miscalculation?-

Rox heard the words in her mind, past her ears; the tone was droll and unexcited. Master Iver coughed and then looked at the man, giving a kind of dismissive wave.

-Oh, I see. She is whom you have asked for my services for? Very well. Here and now or elsewhere?-

Rox rightly felt she was hearing only one side of a conversation that did not include her. On the other hand she was quick to realize that the man was the Talent, and was somehow broadcasting his thoughts, for whatever reason.

-Yes, ma’am, I am. I don’t know what language to speak in and have you understand, but thoughts are nearly universal.-

This was in a quieter tone than prior; Rox comprehending that he was directing this thought directly at her, rather than to all around. Also that he was doing his best to be universally polite.

Finally Master Iver croaked out audible words. “Roxanne daughter of Rodira, this is Macsam son of Voloam; Talent. To answer, Macsam, let us adjourn elsewhere. My Assistant and I will return later and clean and repair anything.”

Rox handed Master Iver his walking stick that he had used or ignored earlier, and then walked behind the older elf as he not quite tottered through the debris of his shop front.

Master Iver stood approaching half again the height of Macsam, and was chest and shoulders taller than Rox. Even so he tottered slightly. The Assistant, as tall as his Master when at full height, followed behind as they made their way around the side of the building to a balcony on the edge of the city terrace level.

Master Iver stepped past three blow-out panels that leaned against the building next door, and onto a porch that looked almost undisturbed by recent events. A wrought iron table and set of chairs occupied the porch. Master Iver chose a chair and settled into it.

Taking a moment to catch his breath, Master Iver watched and motioned for Rox to choose a chair, and for Macsam to do likewise. The Assistant took a chair slightly apart. The chairs were over sized for Rox and Macsam.

Master Iver pointed at a sink and cupboard. Rox rose and got the cups from it then sorted the sinks controls and got water from it, after letting it run a moment to clear. She returned with four cups of water, and distributed them.

Master Iver rinsed his mouth and spat into a planter. After a few more tries he spoke almost normally.

“Macsam I requested you here to do a knowledge transfer: from me to the young lady. She is the descendant of one of my better students, with similar capabilities to her forbearer. But she is from a non-magic world, and so unlearned in its arts and principles. I also need you to fill in a gap in her language comprehension. She can hear the local language to understand it, but cannot speak it, without assistance.”

Macsam nodded.

-Simple enough. Ma’am/Roxanne Stevens Wife, Do you have any issues with this?-

Rox had had all afternoon to think about it, and had only one issue. “So long as it is positive and helpful, and not damaging I can’t think of any real issue. I am of course unfamiliar with this and anxious about it, but I suppose I have enough background ideas from the literature of my home world to make uneducated guesses about it. I’ve never met you before, so I can only trust you as far as I can those recommending you. But if I were untrusting, I wouldn’t be here. Is there any kind of initial scan or preparation you need to do, or mindset you need me to be in?”

Macsam put his water aside and stood to Rox’s side and put a hand to her head, carefully.

-Hold still. This will be a little disorienting.-

Memories flashed through Rox’s awareness, as vivid as when the events happened. Then she felt sensations run through her body, and she was aware of every bit of herself from her fingers and toes to the water in her stomach. Rox came back to awareness of the world around her.

Macsam had moved and was standing next to Master Iver, with a hand on Master Iver’s head. Both had their eyes closed in REM. They stayed this was for a few moments. Then Macsam opened his eyes, and let go of Master Iver.

Macsam looked at Rox.

-Ready?-

x nod��tr���pile in her arms. “Yes I am.”

“Good. You can lay out all your things here. The Master will be with you shortly. He is helping to fit an unruly child.”

Rox put her pile down, and then lay everything out. The four gowns, white, blue burgundy and motley; then the elf foundation garments with five of the thongs. Rox had anticipated being told to strip again, so she had put on a pair of spandex shorts with one of the elf-thongs under it under her skirt. She put down the stockings and slippers that came with the gown next to them. Then she put down her freshly washed tunics, her irreparable trousers, her poncho, her spandex bras and shorts, her socks, and her leather equipment in its various subgroups. As Rox put it down, she spread it out just to keep it in discrete groups. She had not brought her bow or arrows. The tailor who had made the four gowns and other things showed up with a list of Rox’s measurements.

Rox was leaning against the table as this older female elf approached.

“Good day, young lady.”

Rox inclined her head at the taller elf. “Good day, Ma’am. Are you to help here?”

“Yes and no,” the Tailor responded. She put her list of numbers down, and then looked at Rox’s trousers. She picked them up and examined the seams, and the fabric.

“What happened?” She had the trousers inside out, looking at the repaired and ripped out seam.

“Jumping high kick split the seam the first time; a dodge the second time; a kick the third time. By then, as you can see, there was not enough good fabric to repair the seam. If it was constructed the way my clothes at home are, with a piece of fabric here in the form of a bellows, it would not have ripped.

Rox described what she meant using a scrap of fabric, as the Tailor watched intently. As Rox finished, she noticed that a tall, skinny older male elf had shown up and was respectfully watching.

The tailor turned to the older elf. “Master Eklund.”

“Master Senisith.”

“This delightful young woman was just explaining how these trousers were not constructed correctly, and how they could be.”

“So I observed as I approached.” He turned from the tailor to Rox. “You have a letter of introduction?”

Roxanne produced the letter that she had earlier presented to Master Iver. Master Eklund did not even give it a first look. He took it and set it aside.

“So much for formalities. Now, tell me young lady, what can we really do for you?”

082 - Rox's Morning

Roxanne found herself waking in the hotel bed. Reviewing her recent memory, she wondered how she had gotten from the porch behind Master Iver’s shop to here, and how much time had passed. Looking herself over, she was in her own usual sleeping garb, with her clothes laid over a nearby chair as had become her custom. So she had probably got herself here.

Cyrril chirped from the lintel over the fireplace. The little dragon looked at her quizzically.

The light direction and intensity said it was morning. She was scheduled for some fitting with Masters Eklund and Senisith. This was not supposed to be long. Then she would spend the majority of the day with Master Iver.

Rox bathed, then dressed; she had the white off-the-shoulder-gown as her dress for the day. Cyrril disappeared while she bathed.

She put her local underwear and a shoulder less shift on as foundation for the dress.  As she was putting the dress on, there was a knock at the door. Roxanne adjusted the shoulder and sleeve on her right arm. She wrapped the front over her bust and under her left arm, and back around to her right shoulder. The top corner of the panel slipped through the buckle-ring at her shoulder, and back through itself, holding snug. The wrap around panel closed at her right side from under her arm to her waist by a sequence of tiny buttons under a fine flap.

The door was knocked on again.

Rox walked over, adjusting the dress as she walked, to settle it to her torso.

Caspian waited with a breakfast cart, Cyrril on his shoulder. “I thought you might need to be woken up. When you went right to bed before dinner yesterday, you looked a bit distant.”

Rox ushered Caspian in, standing aside for the cart, and then closed the door.

“I don’t remember yesterday evening. Last I remember was being at Master Iver’s, with the Talent, Macsam.”

Caspian had not been kept explicitly up to speed on the goings on, and paused as Roxanne said this. He watched as she stepped over to the dressing area, and used a stool to put each foot on as she put on some slippers that then tied with ribbons up around her lower leg.

As she came back to the table, he arrayed a plate for her, and opened the few dishes that the hotel had arrayed, with the usual assortment of fruits, cheese, bread, and juice. Caspian then held the chair for her as she sat, and then stood aside as she helped herself to the food.

After a moment, waiting to get her with a clear mouth he spoke. “Are you sure you are awake yet?”

Rox looked over the fruit and selected some more. “Yes. I am aware of here and now, but feel that my memories are a bit scrambled. I dreamed in the local language; I remember something about circles and shapes and writing. Also something about fluids, mediums and controlling them.”

“Are you aware you are speaking the local language?” Caspian watched carefully, with all his senses, to gauge her reaction.

She paused. “Am I?”

He nodded. “Yes. With your own accenting to the words, but yes.”

Rox concentrated. “The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy red dog. Mare’s eat oats, and doe’s eat oats, but little lambs eat ivy.”

This was said in English.

“The river ran down hill, through the crags and over the cataracts. You can fish from it.”

Rox said this in the language she had learned in Veradale.

Roxanne then ate some fruit, and started to spread some cheese on a hunk of bread.

Caspian watched. Cyrril leaped and flew over to the window, and started to preen in the sunlight.

Rox gestured to the food. “Going to join me?” She was back in the local language.

Caspian declined. “No. I ate already. I was up before dawn. What are you up to for the rest of the day, looking so primped up?”

Rox swallowed. “First another fitting. Then the rest of the day with Master Iver, and magic practice.”

The fitting was non-eventful. Mostly it was trousers.

Upon arriving at Master Iver’s, he commented briefly on her white gown being a bit more formal than necessary. Once able to get the lesson going Roxanne talked with Master Iver about what had happened the afternoon before, and her lack of memory. He explained that Macsam had transferred, effectively copying, knowledge from Master Iver’s mind to Roxanne. That they were both a bit disoriented was expected. However, Roxanne now had several decades’ worth of magical experience, instruction, and experimentation in her head. Now her mind would catalog and process it, and she could then access it and base her own use on this. It is not the recommended way compared to personal practice but it worked in a pinch, as they had here. As for the language, she had already acquired it once; now it had been written in again, in a more permanent form.

To prove his point, Master Iver spent an hour drilling Rox on various formulas and theories of magic. In retrospect, it was like a comprehensive math final that covered college algebra, geometry, trigonometry, pre-calculus, and calculus, on the second day of high school, and discovering that she could ace every subject without consciously remembering the lessons the information came from.

But Roxanne knew from her own teaching and martial arts training: knowledge did not equal experience. So Rox continued her magic training under Master Iver’s watch.

She stood in the practice room watching him construct and cast a spell. He had a large wood disk on the floor of the room, with about a quarter of his stuff sitting on tables or shelves arranged around the edge of the disk, leaving the center free. She was aware of the mana, and sensed him put the pieces together. First he arranged a container defining the limits. Next the failsafe for bleed over energies. The matrix for the spells final action. Then the energy that would drive it. All this was done by chanting, moving his hands in specific patterns, and concentrating his will to move the mana. And then the disk with his tables and stuff slowly lifted a hand span off the floor.

Roxanne paid most attention to the energies and least to the physical actions. The disk settled back down, and then it was her turn. She had been taught the actions, and words, and had been given a telepathic crash course on the elfin language, in addition to what Caspian had magically done for her. But try as she did, she just could not follow in the path Master Iver was showing. Three times he had worked the levitation, and two times she had failed.

This time, she was going to try a different tact. One suggested by The Sorceress. Roxanne concentrated, not on constructing the components, but on them simply already being.

“Float,” she said under her breath in the Veradale language, focusing on the end result, letting the magic find its own way. Suddenly the room was full of floating objects. The disk was still on the floor, but everything else was moving.

Rox almost panicked, as did Master Iver’s Assistant who had been puttering in the front of the building.

“Try it again. Float.” She mumbled through clenched teeth, reaffixing the idea in her mind.

Suddenly the disk was pushing against her as it jumped to her own waist height in the air, and all the stuff flew back to their places with a clatter. Roxanne felt the power flowing around her, and bending to her will. It was hard to hold, and near intoxicating to feel. She realized that she was holding her hands out to her sides, and formed a new image. As she lowered her hands, the disk settled back to its base.

Master Iver looked around and then at her with evident concern. “Do you know what you just did?”

“I made the disk float.”

“Before and during that?”

“I used magic to float everything else, and then corrected myself to just float the disk.”

“You used force of will alone to shape and hold a spell. Without any buttressing or support to bleed off or control excess.”

“I thought that was what magic was. What you were doing,” Rox replied

He continued. “Magic IS bending the world to your own desires, by your own authority. The ONE Single Difference that really matters between this and having God’s Power, is whose authority it is being done by. Built on to this are a few ideas, among them are these; magic is always temporary, God’s power may be permanent. There are other arguments about the principles these are based on, and why, which lead into a religious discussion; this is not the place for that.”

There were no chairs in here, so Rox stood to attention facing him as he continued his lecture.

“God by His authority said ‘the laws the worlds are run by are thus…’ Magic says ‘that’s fine, will you please do it this way for a while?’ Doing as you did, shaping the spell by will power alone, risks impinging on the powers and realms of God. Most magic users who work this way eventually get intoxicated; overpower a spell, and self-destruct. So there are trappings about magic. They are there for only one real reason – the safety of the spell caster. A lesser reason is the safety of everyone and everything else around the caster. Others will build ritual and rites out of this, and claim in their pride that these are more important. But that is not so. Others, including myself, will say these are aids in focusing the mind and will. That is a corollary to safety.”

Rox interjected. “Do it right and it is safe to do it again.”

Master Iver continued, with pleased tones at her comprehension. “Ultimately it all boils down to individual safety. Now watch.”

He cast the levitation spell again, but instead of just a hand span, he lifted the platform to his waist height off the floor, and held it there, with her standing on it.

He held the spell as he looked at Rox. “Now, use your senses and reason. What is happening, and why with this spell?”

Rox gathered her skirts, hopped off the disk, and opened her magic senses. Still being raw to these senses she had to focus to use them. Slowly they resolved.

She spoke. “I sense energy, mana? swirling about floor level, into a pillar about half the diameter of the disk. This is the levitation part.”

She cast her senses about. “I sense part of the energy is flowing over the rest of the stuff in the room, holding it in place, before flowing into the column.”

Rox knelt, sensing under the disk. “I sense the column spiral out under the disk, and up around its edges. I think this is stabilizing it, keeping it level and still.”

She looked across the disk. “I sense some of the energy holding everything on the disk in place. Then it flows into a column that spirals up off the disk and dissipates out above head level. I am not sure what this is beyond venting the energy.”

Master Iver appeared pleased, and spoke. “Elementary physics; the energy needs a place to go. Also the upper column is pulling the disk up, to balance the pushing underneath. There are two more components you have not mentioned. One is around me, to push excess energy away past me, so that I do not get hurt by any surges. Another is within me, so I can control how high the push and pull of the columns are.”

Rox spoke as she reviewed her own immediately previous efforts. “I just wanted the disk to lift. Then was nervous as I felt I was trying to balance on a ball. It’s apparent I did not do so complex, or as safe a spell as you are.”

Master Iver lowered the disc, and the flow disbursed. For a moment Rox could sense the natural flow of energy through the room without effort. Then like a surge in a river, it was passed and the flow returned to its normal unnoticed level.

083 – Rox Learns Magic, Caspian Learns History, Steven Learns Jewelry

Master Iver thought a moment. “You are hand fighting trained?”

Rox nodded. “Yes.” She held her thoughts in check, waiting.

“Come with me.” The elf led her out of his work room.

He led Rox to a nearby building, a gymnasium, and to one of the large rooms.

As they walked, he quizzed her. “Have you tried to couple magic with your physical moves?”

“No,” Rox answered, and then changed her mind as she thought. “Yes. While learning with the Sorceress, I would instinctively move to a still, focused mindset, as I have tried to do with you. I haven’t tried to throw any magical punches. She did try to teach me to create a magical rope and maintain it as I climbed it. I could not split my focus sufficiently to maintain the rope and climb it. Caspian has taught me some, but more practical than formal.”

Master Iver acknowledged this. “Some of our magic users initially have to discipline their minds before they are still enough to do magic. Then, as you are showing, they tend to do magic by finesse, rather than form; so ‘still and focus’.”

Rox stood to her ready stance, and focused.

The elf backed out of her line of sight. “Now, orient to the flow in the room.”

Rox opened her magic sense and then turned to her right, and stopped. She faced into the flow. Brief thoughts of feng shui went past, and then she returned to now. She felt and let the energy flow around her.

“Collect some energy,” she was instructed.

Rox again had several thoughts run through her, and let all of the cartoons slip away, and just let the energy flow into her, not just around her; to fill her, not just go past her.

She sensed the elf as an eddy behind to her left. “Find something in this room. Remembering all that I did, all the components, make that thing float without making a mess.”

Rox looked around and pointed at a rack of bo-staves. She grounded herself against surges; she pictured what she wanted to do, have a swirl of energy lift the rack up the wall, top flow balancing bottom flow; the energy nearby holding things down and as it went over the rack to hold the rack together; and the control mechanism in her hand. 

“Float.” Rox put it in motion. Energy flowed from her out through her arm and hand over to the rack of staves, and around it. Rox lifted her hand and the rack lifted.

She thought about it moving toward her, but nothing happened. She set it back down, and let the energy dissipate to ambient.

Rox turned to her instructor. “What about movement in the other directions?”

He challenged her. “What do you suppose?”

Rox thought about this. “Two ways. One: tilt the column, and balance the setup in the desired direction and so forth. Two: a second column in the direction of travel. Maybe put the second on a swivel to control direction.”

He confirmed these. “Also, a third column for the third axis. As well add spin around each, and you can move things anywhere. Or, you could just use your hands”

They spent what felt like a few hours moving things around the gym. In the end, Master Iver challenged Rox to put everything back where it was. This one Rox knew, thanks to lessons from The Sorceress: the intelligence or spirit that maintained the physical form of the object also knew its proper place in the order of the world, both in space and in use. She put into the guiding matrix of the spell a node for each object to return to its home spot at a reasonable speed and without these things doing damage to each other. This resulted at first in the confused jumbling about of objects, as smaller objects moved toward larger objects, as the larger objects bumped about moving to their own spots around the room. Slowly the larger objects settled to their spots and the smaller objects settled into their spots within the larger objects.

They returned to Master Iver’s shop. Master Iver had been considering and thinking the whole way. Once in his shop, he sat down and began lecturing Rox. He prefaced by saying that much of what he had to say was already within her head, but she had not yet had the experience to order it properly. Then he started in.

“Magic is an imperfect art. Approach it wrong, and it will destroy you. The approach you are using is very dangerous. I set up and start running spells that can pickup the excess tension, one way or another, for the result that I want. That way I minimize the risk. You went straight for the result. It obviously works, but if your idea is not completely clear, you will get unexpected and dangerous side effects.” He scolded, as he instructed Rox.

“Such as lifting all the stuff, instead of the disk,” Rox contributed sheepishly.

“Precisely. Simple magic is generally safe enough to do this way. But for more complex magic, the power levels alone dictate a need for extra safety. Means to harness and bleed off excess energy.”

“So that it does not turn back and bite me.” Rox turned and pointed at a jug across the room. “Pow.”

A bolt of magic reached from her to the jug and popped it like a balloon, spilling a powder all over the floor. He gave her a scolding look for the mess. She sheepishly accepted his unspoken chastisement.

“Evidently that is your mode of choice. So we will proceed in that direction of training. Be careful that you have the end result clearly in mind; to focus the mind and clearly dictate the desired outcome. That is why most practitioners of magic use several languages, images, and bits of stuff in casting spells. As they get more practiced, they begin leaving bits out, because the end result is already clearly known.”

He looked at the shattered jug of powder. “Now, put it back how it was.”

Roxanne was off learning and practicing magic, and Steven was on his second day out of the city. So Caspian had gone to the library and indulged in some historical investigation.

Now Caspian sat in the café across from the hotel, passing time after his own dinner reading about the Charman Empire consolidation. He had been generally instructed about this history as a boy, but being four centuries and half a continent away, it had little direct impact on the specific history he had been instructed on. Nydecia was one of six kingdoms that had been consolidated into The Empire. The Charman Empire itself had then lasted three generations of leaders, and held the center trade routes of the continent. Then it splintered into factions that were subsequently picked off by surrounding nations. The direct remnant still existed, by a different name.

The former kingdom of Nydecia was east of the center of the continent, and now part of a kingdom that stretched further east. The elves library had little current to say on the subject. The older records had been put into storage, and were out of easy reach for Caspian’s interests.

With the sun going down, the wait-staff had lit the few torches and candles. As he read from the book, the rocks nearby that Verigan had marked and tuned to Steven’s amulet vibrated. Caspian put his book down, and watched.

First the glyph glowed, and then the dust swirled and picked up to a man-sized whirl of energy. Steven materialized and stabilized as the whirl of energy dissipated. Steven was filthy, from dust and dirt. But he had two swords. His first in its scabbard, another tucked through his belt just above the first. His bedroll had something rolled in it, and his shoulder pack was full of stuff.

Caspian followed Steven to their hotel, and ran him a bath. The bag was emptied; the clothes and bag were sent to be laundered. The large scroll was set aside, the smaller one set by the sword. Caspian was curious about the scrolls, but Steven was not yet talking about them. They lastly unrolled the bedroll. Steven let Caspian take the pack of parchment. He then rinsed the bedroll. Once all the blankets were hanging to dry, Steven set to washing himself in earnest. As Steven bathed, Caspian rinsed and set out the jewelry. By then Roxanne had shown up, having spent the last while with Master Iver. Once Steven was dry and dressed, Rox and Steven went to dinner and Caspian went to a hotel lounge to keep reading.

The next morning Caspian went with the Caplan’s to the jeweler, and had all the stuff from the tomb appraised.

Some of it was purely ornamental. The gold mail was dismissed as old artisanship. It was small rings in a one-to-six interlink pattern, but each ring was actually two as the gold would be too soft to support its own weight, so a second set of rings of another metal backed the gold. The mail dress would be worth more melted and separated. Or they could have a jeweler remake the dress, if they would give him one of the tiaras in payment. Caspian showed a heretofore hidden knowledge base when he said that for the labor involved, and the metal, if they wanted to have the dress remade the price was good.

The Caplan’s both passed on the dress. It is just to be separated and the metal recycled.

The tiaras were of good quality; most likely master-jeweler work, especially with the abundance of small gems in silver and platinum alloys.

The earrings were mostly semi-precious stones, and little more than costume. Two sets were of master-cut diamonds, matching a respective necklace each.

The rings were like the earrings, being mostly costume, but three were of significant jewel value with two matching the earring/necklace sets, four were signets for wax-seals.

The six necklaces were the real prize, only one was costume, the rest were of assorted makes with various levels of precious stones through out.

Last to be sorted were the bracelets. Nine were jeweled ladies bracelets, four matching the growing sets of jewelry; another dozen were men’s bracelets, some chains, some bands, most of costume value, some of significant value. None of it was magic. But it was worth a bit cumulatively.

All the pieces were laid out and sorted on a chamois.

After they had all been laid out and sorted Roxanne claimed one of the diamond and platinum sets for herself. This set had a necklace with herring bone base chain with diamond encrusted filigree hung from it, with some thirty individual stones dangling within the filigree. A set of bracelets, earrings, and a diamond crusted ring matched. The ring would have to be sized to fit Rox’s finger, but the rest hung comfortably. The hooks for the earrings smoothly fit the piercing in her ears.

“I’m going to keep this set,” she declared.

Steven looked at his wife, wearing the recently recovered jewelry. It looked a bit out of place compared to her current dun colored costume. “What are you going to wear it with? Looks like for our world, it would require black, or white.”

Rox interrupted Steven. “Well I will have to get a new gown, then.”

“You don’t wear gowns. Or you didn’t at home.” Steven did not bother to argue further.

�
� n>����le='color:black'>Rox knelt, sensing under the disk. “I sense the column spiral out under the disk, and up around its edges. I think this is stabilizing it, keeping it level and still.”

She looked across the disk. “I sense some of the energy holding everything on the disk in place. Then it flows into a column that spirals up off the disk and dissipates out above head level. I am not sure what this is beyond venting the energy.”

Master Iver appeared pleased, and spoke. “Elementary physics; the energy needs a place to go. Also the upper column is pulling the disk up, to balance the pushing underneath. There are two more components you have not mentioned. One is around me, to push excess energy away past me, so that I do not get hurt by any surges. Another is within me, so I can control how high the push and pull of the columns are.”

Rox spoke as she reviewed her own immediately previous efforts. “I just wanted the disk to lift. Then was nervous as I felt I was trying to balance on a ball. It’s apparent I did not do so complex, or as safe a spell as you are.”

Master Iver lowered the disc, and the flow disbursed. For a moment Rox could sense the natural flow of energy through the room without effort. Then like a surge in a river, it was passed and the flow returned to its normal unnoticed level.

085 – Of Swords And Equipment

Shortly the aid returned with two bottles and some rags. Several of the papers and books were moved and piled aside. Cuinton took a rag, opened one bottle, put the rag over the opening and splashed a bit onto the rag. He handed the bottle back to his aid, which closed it and put it on the table. He picked up the sword and started at the hilt wiping the grime and scabbard residue from it.

Steven could see that he probably would not get all the staining off the metal, but the blade was soon cleaner, and the surface features caught the light. Steven could see some of the grain of the metal.

Cuinton cleaned both sides, for about halfway from the crossbar to the tip. The rag was put aside and another used to wipe the alcohol off. Then he used the first rag with the second bottle, this was evidently a light oil that left a sheen on the blade. Cuinton stepped over by the window, Steven and Mallob following.

He held the blade in the light, letting it glint off the surface features, and examined it. He soon stopped. Then he called out short words in language that Steven did not recognize.

Cuinton finished and handed the sword back to Steven. He then moved back to where another aid was writing and comparing to another written document. The two elves conferred in their own language.

Steven held the sword in the light, and was quickly able to see a series of characters that ran along beside one fuller. These were a different color from the rest of the steel of the blade.

Finally Cuinton turned back to Steven. “I believe that is the sword we selected for you. From the history we have of if, it should serve you well.”

“How so?” Steven vaguely remembered Verigan saying something about this, but was focused on other things at the time.

Cuinton picked up a sheet of paper and looked it over. “The wielder of the sword apparently ‘could not be touched by magic. It is described as being a straight two-edge sword, simple crossbar, wire wrapped grip'.”

He put the sheet down. “It looks like the wielder of this sword has some protection against magic. Its history is that the first recorded wielder used it to win the kingdom of Nydecia. It was then passed down the line of kings, defending the kingdom, and expanding it a little from time to time.”

Cuinton picked up another sheet. “This is from another source: the sword with have the characters 'TI=SO+ND' inlayed on one side. Which we have just found.”

The old elf moved on to other information. “From what we have learned about the rulers of Krogg, this will be a good tool for you. The queen has some kind of magic bargain, and has not been seen in public in years, but is known to still be alive. The king used magic imbued armor and other tools to preserve his life on the battlefield, but has not been reported on the field in some years. There are reported to be several casters of assorted flavors in their employ.”

“My wife encountered one of them,” Steven interjected.

“So,” Cuinton continued. “We do not know all the facts. But have given you all we have at the moment. Now, I understand you are due at Master Mundrl’s as soon as you can get there, whether this afternoon or in the morning tomorrow.”

“Yes, I am.”

“Very good. He and his family are well skilled, and will be good for you. Now, unless you have something else for me, I have other business to be about.”

Steven considered. “No. There is not anything I can think of.”

The old elf nodded to Mallob, gathered his notes, and then turned and left; his three aids who had been in attendance following. One paused long enough to retrieve the bottles and rags that had been used on the sword.

As Steven reviewed the meeting that evening to Roxanne, he presented Mallob’s notes. As soon as Steven finished his report, she took the notes aside to the window and began to read them in the late afternoon light.

After briefly marveling at being able to recognize and read the elf alphabet, she settled into reading and sorting the information out.

Steven got the sword out, and the two bottles he had acquired on his way home. The first was white alcohol, with which he rubbed the blade down. With some patient work he had most of the discoloring off of the blade and all of the residue. Then he worked over the hilt, being careful not to let the alcohol soak into the ivory. When finished he put the closed alcohol bottle aside and opened the second bottle. This had light oil that he rubbed into all the metal components of the sword. The oil rubbed into the blade, causing the darker grain to be more visibly distinct from the lighter grain. He also could see the pattern of the characters that looked stamped into the blade between the fuller and the edge on one side. The bronze did not soak in the oil as quickly but did take in some. Steven carefully rubbed oil into the crisscrossed wire wrapped around the ivory.

Just as Steven carefully worked the sword over, Rox carefully digested the notes she read.

Steven put the sword aside on a chamois, then left and quickly returned with a cart with dinner for the two of them.

As they ate Rox reviewed the notes with Steven. She would read the notes in the written language, translate it to English, and then they would discuss it at length. Their discussion came down to one topic that Mallob had sprinkled in comments through out the notes. How would all this be resolved? The largest hole in information was what the real motivation of Krogg was.

As they talked about this, Steven wrote things down in his journal. Roxanne came to a realization about a way to ‘force’ things to swift conclusion. The bad guys in Krogg wanted the kids and would keep coming back for them. So, do not wait for the bad guys to come again, rather go hunting for them. But would the kids be ready?

Roxanne reviewed the available notes, retranslating them for Steven, and explained what she was comprehending them to say. Then she told Steven that depending on what they found in Krogg, she wanted to get the kids, and then go confront the Warlord and Queen, and hope that the kids can win, rather than run and hide until they are adults.

Steven listened to this, and did not like it. He just wanted to get the kids and go home. Since they do not have the full understanding of Krogg’s pieces of this puzzle, they would have to hold off a final decision. In the mean time Steven had his appointments with his outfitter, Rox was to finish with hers, and continue her magic lessons. Once both outfitters were done, and Master Iver was happy with her abilities, they would be on their way.

Journal of Steven Caplan: Day 119

Rox has been learning magic and occasionally visiting her outfitter. Now I get to get my costume reworked. There are a few things I would change if I had the means. The question is can I communicate what I would like to change things to effectively?

Steven had finished eating and cleaning up breakfast when the elf came for him. It was not Verigan.

“I am here to take you to be outfitted. Don all your gear, and come with me.” The tall elf just stood by the door, passively waiting.

Steven quickly turned to, pulled on his vest and belt, shouldered his crossbow, and picked up his coat and pack with bedroll, then followed the elf out. Outside the hotel they climbed into a waiting coach. Steven settled into his seat putting his bedroll and bag, coat, and crossbow on the seat next to him, and adjusted his sword's position so he wasn’t sitting on it. The elf watched with passive interest, like many officers that Steven remembered from years ago.

They moved through the morning traffic and into the market district. The coach slowed as it moved through the crowd. Steven watched, curious at the activity. He felt that the markets he had seen were much like open-air malls, but with the sellers actively hawking their goods.

The coach pulled up to a shop on the side that Steven was not watching.

“We are here.” The elf moved to the door as it opened from the outside.

Steven grabbed his things by their straps and climbed out. As he stepped onto the dusty cobblestones of the sidewalk, Steven looked up at the sign. The script was unreadable, but the writing looked plain, and relatively unadorned. The sign was stained embossed leather over wood, the meaning was later apparent.

The elf moved forward, Steven following in his wake. They moved through the door as an attendant held it. Steven entered the shop unsure of what he would find, and feeling a bit self-conscious; both from his being in full kit, and being the shortest adult there.

Half the shop looked like a cross between a leather and cloth shop; furs and tanned leathers on tables and rolled up in shelves arrayed like wine racks. Bolts and rolls of fabric were somewhat intermixed in the middle of the area, and filled one entire rack. Six female elves with young children in tow were conversing over one of the tables of material. The other half to the shop looked like a condensed and abbreviated version of an outdoor equipment and outfitters shop, with bits and pieces of all sorts of stuff on the shelves and in bins. For all this, the front room looked a little more than sixty feet wide to his left and twenty feet deep from the door in the corner. To the right by the door was a counter where a petite female elf, taller than Steven, was minding the cash box and books.

Steven’s escort barely noticed her as he glided straight to the back and through the rear entry to a room of equal size, though oriented deeper than it was wide. On Steven’s right were changing booths along the wall with high windows above them. A work table and stool stood on the left, with shelves lining the walls, floor to ceiling; Steven estimated about sixteen feet up. A ladder stood to one side against a shelf. Another elf walked in from the opposite door, a young elf who was evidently his son in tow. Both were dressed for utility, with a chamois apron over silk shirts, linen trousers and leather shoes.

The two adult elves conversed quickly, the escort motioning to Steven. The boy was about a hand span shorter than Steven, but looked like he was in his early teens. The adults finished and turned to face him, the escort addressing him.

“This is Master Mundrl. He is to outfit you properly, for much of what you carry is deemed unsuitable for what lies ahead for you. As he does not speak any language you know, I will remain as interpreter. Now, please empty all your pockets, pouches and so forth onto the table, including unsheathing all your weapons, and unrolling your bedroll.”

Steven was not sure about the unsuitability of things, but was not yet ready to argue.

First he put the bedroll onto the table. Used to tables at just below belt level, he felt a bit awkward reaching for one that was almost at chest level. But he quickly filled the area of it with stuff from his pack and vest. First he unrolled the blankets, and put his larger things down into them. Next he emptied his pack, pulling out the change of clothes; this included several sets of socks and underwear, his own and the two sets for his kids. Two swords were put down on the end of the blankets, one with a leather scabbard and belt. Several knives and various implements for equipment care went next to these. His coat, gloves and hat were put down beside the bedroll. In the middle of the blankets Steven put down his tinderbox, and all the toys from Terra; a leatherman, his camera with two rolls of the film used, the third roll a bit more than a third done, his binoculars, mess kit, and so forth. Some pebbles, twigs and leaves fell out and got brushed aside as things were opened up and set out. This left Steven standing in his trousers, shirt, and boots.