Modern Wizardry
1
I
like to read. It’s one of my major hobbies, and the reason I spent most of the
afternoon haunting three bookshops, filling most of my bike’s fairly spacious
luggage compartment with paper and binding. I can read most anything, from autobiographies
and romances to science, thriller, mystery, horror, history and plain fiction.
My favourite genre however, is fantasy and science fiction, and with the recent
popularity of Harry Potter, Lord of the Rings and such like, the selection was
growing by the week. The first book I ever read was Frank Herbert’s celebrated
Dune, the second Zelazny’s Lord of Light. I suppose that explains it. I mostly
eat by myself, and I can’t even do that much without something to read. In
desperation, I sometimes resort to TV and movie guides, or – horror of horrors
– advertisement flyers and brochures. It’s that or pace around, which is enough
to annoy the hell out of anyone. Even me. I read very quickly, and mostly
remember everything I read, which makes rereading a favoured book an unpleasant
chore, at best. My reading habits shaped my life. Then they changed my life.
The
third and last store of the day had a tiny opening to the city’s major
thoroughfare, but spanned three stories and a basement. It had a large section
of used and bargain books, room to sit and browse, and a very large selection.
I always like to leave the best for last, obviously.
It
wasn’t just the books, of course. It was also the people who buy and read them.
You’d find it astonishing and quite stereotype shattering. I spent nearly an
hour talking rapid fire fashion with a pair of black 13 year olds girls – I’m
16, by the by – about books, just today. Which basically means, about
everything and anything. Many of the people I keep in touch with, I met in
those not-really-dusty corners, picking up a book and then smiling, asking a
question. Or remarking on the book they picked from the shelf. It was a
different world, one all its own. Much of it was an exchange of ‘you really
need to read so-and-so’ and the reasons for such recommendations, but the
people who buy and read books are, in general, worth speaking with. It was a
philosophy and debate class of a sort, an invisible stratum of society. A world
of in-jokes and awful puns.
The
only written thing I avoided like leprosy was poetry. My diatribes concerning
the subject had almost brought tears to the eyes of my English teacher, a young
woman and recent college graduate named Shirley, whose unpleasant job it was to
beat appreciation of the wonders and insights ascribed to scribbled lines of
inanity into hardheaded and hearted teens. We managed to reach a truce on the
subject. I acknowledged my inability to ‘get it’, and she promised not to
bother me in class about it. She’s a small, pretty, blue-eyed blond girl,
otherwise I’d have hounded her on the subject with a never ending spate of
sarcastic comments and puns, in all likelihood. I’m a guy and sixteen, so it’s
hardly surprising that pretty girls are a weakness of mine.
My
bike is of the three wheeled variety, two rear wheels keeping much better
traction and stability. Sure, I could have bought something big, loud, noisy
and fashionable, but I was much more concerned with safety and fuel efficiency.
I hate to drive. Oh sure, there’s an edge of adrenalin and almost physical
pleasure in moving faster than the wind, weaving from lane to lane and getting
there first. Unfortunately, a by-product of too much reading is the sickening
realization of just how fragile the human body is, and the knowledge that it
really can happen to you. No matter how cautious, smart and fast you are,
there’s always someone who’s lucky day it isn’t. Or someone who isn’t quite as
cautious, smart and fast as you are. Or drunk or stoned, for that matter. I’m
not big on trusting people – I drive carefully. On the other hand it’s a
statistical fact that even paranoiacs die, so I don’t take it to extremes. Slow
isn’t necessarily good, but helmets are mandatory. Anyone with brains also
wears some sort of protective clothing when using one of the most dangerous
implements invented by mankind. Jeans, heavy long-sleeved shirt and gloves are
enough for me.
Home
was twenty minutes away, a not so small walled villa by Stetting Park. You
might call us ‘comfortably well off’ or ‘upper middle class’. Mom was a former
hot-shot prosecutor turned judge, and my father was an upper executive in the
Republic Bank. Which is to say, I didn’t really see much of them. When they
scrapped up vacation days, they usually spent them together abroad, anywhere
from Prague to the Caribbean. I couldn’t complain. They really deserved and
needed some rest, and they couldn’t get any at home, not really, not nowadays.
Too much communication technology meant that you were always on call, and
unfortunately, with their job descriptions they just couldn’t set up an office
at home.
I
keyed the gate open, keyed the garage open, and spent nearly an hour carrying
and arranging the books. The library room, unfortunately, was on the second
floor. There was enough room, if barely, as I regularly donated books to
libraries or just ‘loaned’ them to people. It was very difficult, but the
parentals finally broke through my stubborn resistance last year. They were
adamant, and probably correct, pointing out that there just wasn’t any more
room, and kindly offered to remove a few computers to make some more. I
resigned myself to the status of collector-emeritus, gritted my teeth, and got
rid of some books. It was almost physically painful. Computers are not only
another major hobby, they’re also my job. Or jobs, rather, so clearing space in
the computer room was quite impossible.
Fortunately,
my annoying little sister and her pack of simpering friends were away at summer
camp. A camp whose central theme was horses, of all things. Big, smelly,
dangerous creatures. I couldn’t help but smile at the thought of all those
spoiled little girls shovelling horse manure. I remember trying to explain to
her that not everything that looked ‘cute’ on TV or in magazines was something
you particularly wanted to meet in person. Her response was less than polite.
At dinner with our parents… which cost her the weekend and the party she’d
babbled about for nearly the entire week. Icy politeness was the best I got
from her before she disappeared into equine land. The blessed quiet at home was
truly welcome.
Air
conditioning or no, I was feeling a mite ripe, so I took a quick shower,
throwing my clothes into the ‘dirty’ hamper and putting on a pair of shorts.
Then it was time for the kitchen. Damn, but I was hungry. It was quite
startling, the sheer amount of food I managed to shovel into a seemingly
bottomless stomach, without gaining an ounce of weight. Privately, I was
starting to doubt the conservation of energy and mass physics. With the parents
in Australia and Lee, my fourteen year old bitch of a little sister, in camp, I
had no one to moan, tease and groan over the platefuls I consumed. Three fairly
big meals a day and the occasional snack were only just enough to keep me
functioning.
Sometimes
it was take-away, usually Chinese or Indian. More often, I felt like cooking.
No, I didn’t particularly enjoy the work, but I did enjoy the results – I was,
quite simply, a better cook. I still had some chicken breast in a marinade of
honey, wine, soy sauce, garlic and spices in the fridge, so I put a few slices
on the hot plate, add a salad and cooked some rice with a blend of spices, cut
carrots, peas and some brown sugar in the wok. Divine… and there was enough
left for tomorrow morning or lunch. I left a wrapt up plate in the fridge,
washed the dishes and utensils and tossed them – lightly – into the dishwasher.
Picking
up the book I’d been reading (Dave Duncan’s ‘the Cursed’), I put in a marker
and returned to the library. I’d been a bit rushed there at the end of the
shopping spree, since I truly didn’t like to drive in the dark, and hadn’t
really looked at everything I’d bought. At least, not beyond the title, and I’d
picked most of them from the used section, so some were quite battered. I used
to be a real fanatic on the subject of taking proper care of books, but I’d
mellowed quite a bit since having to let so many of them leave my clutches. I
was still real tight assed about taking care of most other things.
Putting
the book aside, I picked up the first pair of new ones, sat down in front of
the library computer, and clicked to Amazon. ‘Crystal Warriors’ and ‘Crystal
Sorcerers’, paperbacks in not too terrible a shape, and more importantly, the
only ones in the series. Looked readable if not inspiring, fairly standard
‘people sucked into fantasy dimension granted powers and fighting it out’. This
was going to take quite a bit of time, as I’d bought over eighty books,
stocking up for the summer vacation.
After
a while, I got a bit blurry. Rising, I stretched and did a few high kicks. I
studied Jiujitsu, twice a week like clockwork for almost eight years now, and
should be ready to test for black belt before the school year, so I was fairly
limber. I trudged down the stairs, filled a beer-mug sized glass with coke, and
went back to ‘work’. The next book had nothing but ‘Wizardry’ written on the
black leather cover, and looked old and a bit ratty. Strange, there was no
mention of author, and the only Wizardry I could think of offhand was an old
computer roleplaying game.
The
first page was blank. I jumped a few pages forward, and blank white paper was
all there was to it. The first thing that leaped to mind was some sort of cheat
on the part of the store, but that didn’t make sense, seeing as folks usually
looked at a book before paying. I looked at it again, quizzically, and saw that
there was something written there. Raise your hand, point your index finger
up and say ‘Hadriax Varsshath’, was written in the middle of the
page. I blinked. What the hell?
Shrugging, I raised my left hand, pointed the index
finger up and said the words. I had a bit of trouble pronouncing the ‘sshath’
sound, naturally. The third time I tried it, a column of blue fire as thick as
my finger shot up into the air, bubbling like a fountain. I froze in shock. My
mouth dropped open. My mind went blank. There was no heat… in fact, I was
growing colder. Movement drew my eyes, as the text on the open page shifted. Release
the spell by lowering your index finger, it said. I didn’t think about it,
but when I looked up my fists were clenched, the fire gone. I clenched my
teeth, hard, and broke into sudden sweat. “What…?” I coughed, “what happened?”
Reflexively, I looked down at the book. This time, I
was not terribly surprised to see new words inscribed upon the paper.
You cast your first spell, a first circle energy manipulation cantrip.
“Will you answer my questions?” I asked. I winced at
the plaintive, quavering sound of my voice, drew in a deep breath and wiped the
sweat from my forehead.
Yes, within the limits of what you are permitted to
know and what is contained in the book of wizardry appeared on
the page.
“What questions would I be best served by asking?
Write the answer immediately below the question,” I ordered in a much calmer
voice. The resulting flood of information left me reading with feverish
intensity until 4 am. I was so excited, I had trouble falling asleep even so. I
didn’t… well, hadn’t believed in magic or the supernatural. Believe it when I
see it… and see it I had.
What I learned was astonishing, if true. I felt it
best to retain a healthy modicum of skepticism. Trusting an enchanted book too
far did not strike me as the smartest thing a would be wizard should do. Oh
yes, that is exactly what I was, now. I’d cast my first spell, and there was no
going back.
The list of questions was enormous, but most of it was
technical information, telling me how to learn quickly and what I needed to do
in order to pronounce the throat-twisting syllables and perform the gestures
that unleashed spells with perfect accuracy. The rest…
A student of wizardry drew all the power for a spell
from himself. That was why I’d felt myself growing colder, physically weaker.
Trying the wrong spell could kill me. No, it WOULD kill me. The more
experienced I got, the less energy each spell would require. A real wizard
could imbue talismanic objects with his own power, effectively creating a
magical reserve. The archwizard could actually draw on other sources to power
his spells – the elements themselves.
How did one graduate from student to wizard?
Restricted information. One had to master the tenth circle of spells from the
schools of life magic, transmutation and energy control, as well as the second
circle of mind magic, before having to pass a test of some sort. Archwizard?
Attain the fifteenth circle of life, which contained the spells of
rejuvenation, learn how to become one with the elements, and master the fifth
circles of spirit and mind. Whatever ‘becoming one with the elements’ meant.
The elements? Surprise, I’d always thought there were
four: fire, air, earth and water. In the classic greek tradition of Plato,
Aristotle and their brethren. The Buddhists added void or aether, and the
Chinese mythos contained the elements of wood and metal, while neglecting air.
The book cited six – the classic four as well as wood and spirit. But there was
much more to the elements than mere natural forces and the currents that ran
through the world. A large portion of ‘what is dangerous or potentially
dangerous to me’ dealt with the elemental courts and the bewildering variety of
creatures that made their homes there. These courts apparently regulated the
weather, tectonic activity and many other natural and supernatural phenomena…
and even chaos theory was of limited use in predicting their behavior. The
elementals normally dwelt apart and avoided humanity… only wizards did not
count as part of humanity. The circle of binding allowed wizards to control or
extract services from elementals, which made them generally hostile to wizards,
leaving a lone student especially vulnerable. There were also a lot of
exceptions to the rule of elemental reclusiveness, and a tremendous body of
protocol regarding their modes of address. An angry storm giant or firedrake
were not something even experienced wizards wanted to face, so it was etiquette
school and learning languages humans weren’t meant to pronounce. Sheesh, but I
did not find that particularly appealing.
Of course, all that information was suspect. The book
could provide nothing of the internal politics, methods and views of today’s
courts, for it was last updated in 1911, and even then only partial information
had been provided.
The circles of magic were basically arbitrary
groupings of techniques and spells, dealing with a single overarching subject.
The largest of them was the circle of energy manipulation, which included
everything from lighting a fire, to illusions, weather control and telekinesis.
The circle of life dealt with living things, how to take them apart and put
them together… and a lot more. Many of the techniques student wizards had to
learn dealt with manipulating one’s vocal chords and physical self. Perfect
memory and wizard sleep, only requiring two hours of sleep a night, were two of
the first things I needed to study. Transmutation dealt with objects and
changes thereof, and required major study of chemistry and physics, as the more
advanced life magics required considerably more than a medical degree did – to
heal a broken bone you had to know exactly where you wanted each little thing,
were every capillary went… damn.
The two most complicated circles were those of mind
and spirit. I would have thought that memory and sleep would be part of these,
but evidently such minor things were part of the physical body, brains and
hormones and such. The book did not offer any real explanation, beyond the
initial comment on the arbitrary nature of the groupings. Nor would it answer
my question or whether wizardry was an art or a science. Mind magic dealt with
sensing and influencing emotions, thoughts, memories and attitudes, while the
spirit dealt with the world beyond the world. Whatever that meant. Some wizards
could not master even the first circle of spirit, sensing the immaterial, but
the book assured me that I’d manage it. Eventually. Only those with strong
archwizard potential could see the book.
Potential dangers. Now there was a long list.
Naturally, the first danger was overusing magic and killing myself, either
directly or through exhaustion in deleterious circumstances. Shit happens, and
then you die. Strangely, there was no mention of human authorities, and the
book refused to comment on the matter. Suspicious, to say the least. Or maybe
not… if it had last been updated in 1911, it was hardly up to date. The next
danger mentioned was other wizards.
The third danger was religion. Knock me over with a
spoon… religion? The danger, apparently, was twofold. First the gods
themselves. Yes, gods plural, and no – it wouldn’t elaborate beyond telling me
that the gods had been imprisoned in the sun five millennia ago. If they were
gods, what had the power to do that, for god’s sake? I laughed hysterically for
a couple of minutes after reading that. I’d always been somewhat skeptical about
religion, but I hadn’t rejected it outright. I just didn’t know what to think –
it was one subject my parents had never mentioned so much as once. I managed to
learn that Alex, my father, came from a strict Catholic home, and bore a great
deal of ill will towards anything religious. Mom was more opaque on the
subject, and I’d never been interested enough to actually ask. I’d only seen
the inside of a church in movies.
But to read, in an undeniably magic book, that there
were gods, and that they were imprisoned… skeptic or not, it sort of shook my
world. If not quite as much as the existence of magic did.
The gods were dangerous, because imprisoned or not,
they still possessed power beyond reckoning, and could be reached with the
correct rituals. I was warned that doing so would not be wise. The second
aspect to the danger religion posed was those individuals and orders who had
pledged themselves to the gods and channeled their powers. Some were benign,
but several were apocalyptic or merely insane. Presumably reflecting their
patrons. After millennia of jail time, I suppose I wouldn’t feel too kindly
inclined towards anything and anyone free, either. I had trouble enough with
boredom while masticating.
Beyond this were the demons – not from hell, of which
there was no mention – but the general name for anything from another
dimension. The book admitted that it did not contain information that would
directly permit passage between dimensions, nor did it contain any information
on the nature of existence. The indirect means to travel between dimensions lay
in the circle of spirit. It directed me to another text, the Eidola Incarnate,
if I wished to investigate further, and indicated that there were copies of the
text within the elemental courts and others in the possession of wizards.
Wizards. I wasn’t too eager to make contact.
Supposedly, about three thousand years ago, the organization to which all
wizards had belonged by force of law had shattered, most of its members
perishing in a desperate war to stop an invasion of demons. Since then, the
elemental courts had acted in unison, despite their incessant bickering, to
prevent the formation of another such organization. So nowadays there were lone
wizards, small groups and cabals, and hidden societies. There was no predicting
what reactions would be, beyond basing them upon the foundations of humanity in
general. Which meant, probably not so good. Wizards were no longer actively
being hunted down by supernatural forces, but it was not a safe occupation. North
Korean peasants had a better life expectancy than a wizard who didn’t take
security seriously.
Magical artifacts were a deadly danger to a novice.
The book of wizardry was one of the old teaching tools, but almost every other
enchanted item was protected in some way. Wizards in general were paranoid, and
cultists were even worse. Wizard’s first rule – if it’s magical, don’t touch
it.
Beyond dimensional travel, there were other things the
book did not contain. The arts of divination were contained in the Book of
Omens. Transportation spells were forbidden knowledge for some reason the book
would not divulge. Knowledge of battle magic was taught by the Codex of Yarim
and Aluthia’s Analects, contained in magical gems or weapons, or the
warscepters that were the personal regalia and status marker of the archwizards
of old. The circle of energy manipulation contained some useful things, but if
it came to a serious fight, I was basically cooked.
Waking up, the first thing I did was repeat the
firefinger cantrip. I watched the flames fountain, licked my lips, and was
alternately afraid and elated. This was serious shit. I’d never before faced
any real problems in my life. I was lucky that way, and well did I realize it.
Rich parents who were good people, serious smarts, reasonable health (barring
allergies)… life was basically good. If I was too moral to seduce a girl I
didn’t much care about, that was my fault. Yes, a virgin. A year ago, I’d
decided to take care of it. I was a geek, but I was a good looking – if
relatively short – smart, and rich geek. I had plenty of self confidence, too.
I found a nice looking girl, made sure she was single,
asked her out, kept dating and entertaining for a couple of weeks, and had her
naked in bed in short order. She was reluctant to go through, though I’m not
certain how much of that was genuine, but I could have pressured her. Easily.
If not then, the next time, or the next one. I had condoms ready and all. But
it felt… I don’t know, empty. I wanted to get my rocks off, and nothing more.
Oh, I had no intention of dumping her immediately, or even at all. I’d picked
her as seducible and pretty, and for no other reason. I didn’t particularly
enjoy her company. We had no interests in common. Saying the ‘love’ thing made
my throat twist. She was pleasant enough, if far from brilliant, tiny,
dark-haired and somewhat plump, with spectacular breasts and a cute face.
Fuck-worthy, as any testosterone laden teen would say, and certainly not a girl
you’d kick out of bed.
But that’s basically what I did. I felt nothing for
her, and just couldn’t go through with it. I managed to avoid her for a week,
and we broke it up amicably enough. Call me stupid. I certainly did, plenty of
times, as I masturbated a minimum of twice a day. Stupid romance books,
infecting me with the need for that elusive ‘spark’. Stupid fantasy books,
infecting me with the do-gooder syndrome. I really hoped I’d meet someone who
attracted me for a reason other than aesthetics, or rather, in addition to her
appearance, next year – and it had to be next year at the earliest, because the
months of summer were suddenly filled. No, overfilled – I still had my jobs and
money business to take care of.
Thinking of work, I rolled out of bed, put on a pair
of shorts (I sleep in underwear), slipped my feet into my comfortable old
slippers and hurried to the computer room. Or began hurrying, rather… I caught
the door jamb and spun, running right back. I opened the book, and asked, “do
bullets work on elementals and demons? Can I lose you?”
Bullets will work on most demons, but will not harm elementals. A transmutation of the seventh order can enchant bullets against all elementals other than spirit creatures. Spirit spells of the second circle are required to harm such beings, and bullets will be of no use against such.
Scrolling down, new words appeared.
This book cannot be stolen or lost. You will always find it when you look for it.
“Damn!” I said out loud, “one hell of a spell. Hmmm,”
I considered for a moment, and added another question, “how do I create new
spells?”
Still thinking about guns, I walked into the computer
room. It wasn’t much of a room – more a large closet, brimful of computer
equipment and flatscreens, with a single exceedingly comfortable (and
expensive) manager-type chair.
Computers are another hobby of mine. Like everyone
younger than 20, I grew up with them. When other kids were watching TV, the
electronic babysitter, I was reading or playing on the computer – or
programming. My parents sent me to private lessons on computer programming when
I was in second grade, after I whined too much over piano lessons. Like
swimming and martial arts, it was something you tried on your kid. Though I’m
probably being uncharitable… they meant well, and most things took. By the time
they got down the list to soccer and dance, my schedule was mostly full. Come
to think of it… dance. Good place to meet girls out of school. Bears thinking
on, certainly, but not now.
Now was the time to check my e-mail and document taps.
My parents would absolutely explode if they ever found out, but I’m basically a
criminal. An electronic pirate. I took three part time jobs in three different
computer labs under three different identities as a software engineer, not for
the admittedly nice pay, but for the chance to plant backdoors. I’d had to give
up one job, the least useful, because I was running out of free time, but I was
basically making out like a bandit. The real moneymakers were the stock and
exchange markets. If you knew what was coming up, you had a license to print
money, assuming you knew what the ramifications were and how the investors,
blind herd of buffalo that they were, would react.
When I wanted to start college early, my parents were
co-operative, but they insisted on remote learning, and I’d just finished the
second year of a bachelor’s degree in mathematics and economics. It was that
old promise I’d had to make, that I’d finish high school. My father insisted on
extracting it when he loaned me $10,000 when I was twelve, for the express
purpose of playing the market. I still haven’t managed to figure out the reason
behind it. But I definitely had the education required to take advantage of the
information I managed to sift from the dross, though I probably would have made
out well even without it. Or so I’d like to think, at least. If you don’t
cheat, you’re not really playing. Those are the rules in the world of sharks.
There was nothing new, but the calendar program was
flashing. It was time to pick out a position on ActiTron, as the substantially
improved results and new contracts were to be announced this weekend. I sent
the buy order after taking another look at things, and then checked the daily
To Do list. There were a couple of programming jobs to finish, but they weren’t
flagged with bonus for an early finish, and there were four days on the
deadline. If I managed the magical tricks that allowed for reduced need for
sleep, sharpened concentration and perfect recall, I’d finish them in a snap,
especially since I’d mapped everything on the projects out yesterday morning.
Damn, but as soon as I stopped concentrating, it hit
me. A black hole in my stomach, a wave of weakness and blurred vision
accompanied the shocked understanding of what using magic and drawing upon my
body’s energy really meant. I was going to have to stuff myself like a bear
preparing for hibernation, each and every day. The more you use it, the better
you get, so I was going to cast as many spells as I could, and with the need to
study, work, play and replenish energy – the time demands and sheer amount of
food I’d have to consume meant that there was no chance of enjoying my cooking…
and five takeaways a day would be suspicious. Not to mention silly.
After eating, so much that even I had trouble
believing it, I decided to take care of the food situation first thing. There
was plenty of room in the fridge and freezer, and while I like variety it
seemed that quantity and nutritive value were far more important. I prepared
three huge takeaway orders, from Chinese, Indian and Thai restaurants, things I
could toss in the microwave later, and used the internet to order in a
humongous amount of groceries and frozen things. Perhaps I was being overly
optimistic, but that much food really should keep me functioning for at least
week. Taking another look at the orders, I bit my lip and shook my head. I’d
just spent nearly a $1000 on food. Which I expected to last for no more than a
week. How did poor student wizards survive? Well, perhaps they rationed the use
of power, or used the spells they learned practically. As in, to steal or make
money legitimately. Come to think of it, the tiniest bit of telekinesis would
take care of dice or roulette gambling, and easily, so long as it was
accomplished circumspectly. It might… no almost certainly could influence
gambling machines and ATMs.
It was time to consult the book again. I opened a
notepad, and began typing questions. When I looked towards the printer, my
heart leaped. The book was sitting innocently on the wooden desk, whereas I
distinctly recalled having left it back in my room. When it said that I’d find
it when I needed it, it meant that literally. Phew.
Alas, but there just wasn’t any information on the
interaction of magic and electronics or electricity. There was no data, and the
grimly underlined advice was not to experiment. I’d had a few thoughts, and
asked some more questions. Apparently, there were no such things as undead,
vampires, werewolves and ghouls. There were demons that had similar traits,
which explained things. I asked a few questions about the nature of demons, but
the answers were very unsatisfactory. The Archimagical College, the prime
research facility of the old Conclave, had three hotly debated theories on the
nature of demons. The first held that there were infinite possibilities and
mirror realms, and thus an infinite number and variations of demons. The second
theory was identical to the first, except that it supposed that of those
infinite variations, only a relatively limited number of possibilities had any
sort of connectivity to Earth, and thus the variations and numbers we could
face, while large, were not infinite. The third one, obviously, held that the
possibilities and variations were limited.
The answer to my question regarding the possible
existence of other types of magic was something of a surprise. It seemed that
there were unconfirmed reports of two other types of magicians. One, traitors
to humankind, were called Warlocks. Supposedly, they worshipped and served
demons, drawing some sort of power from them. The second were called Witches or
Druids, who drew power from the elements of earth and wood and from the moon.
Supposedly, their main powers touched upon nature and the art of healing,
similar in part to the circle of life. Mostly, they were reputed to serve the
gods, and were thus hard to differentiate from actual priests.
I was less surprised to discover that the book of
wizardry was far from a comprehensive collection of spells. In accordance with
its purpose as a primer that guided the wizard from infancy as a student to
heights of power as an archwizard, it held only the most common and basic
spells. Thousands more spells and yet more circles of wizardry, some obscure –
the book mentioned necromancy as an example, describing it as the use of mortal
remains in magic, a practice which was held in disrepute and ridicule in olden
times – existed. Some were known only to spirit custodians, others were
inscribed upon artifacts and inside gemstones, many resided in books or carved
upon rock in temples and remote mountains… the study of wizardry began to sound
suspiciously close to adventure.
Adventure is all very fine to read about, but it also
sounds perfectly miserable. I like my luxuries. I bit my lip at the glimpse I’d
just received of the future. A mad scramble for knowledge and power in a world
that held so very many dangers. Exciting, sure. But it didn’t promise much beyond
a chance at power and possible immortality. I knew I could never let such a
chance pass me by, of course. The book would never have picked me, otherwise.
I’m sure of that much. The damn thing can probably read me a lot better than I
can read it. I’m smart, I’m curious, and I’m not a coward.
I’m not particularly proud of that last thing. Courage
is common, when all is said and done. In the modern western world, there is
seldom an opportunity for people to demonstrate that in heroic fashion, but you
need only look back to the insanity of trench warfare in the first world war to
understand. True cowards are rare, because in a social species, cowardice is a
survival trait only to a fairly limited degree. Ha, thinking bleak thoughts and
descending into practical Darwinism. God help me. Actually, don’t help me gods…
What are the obligation of wizards? Officially,
nowadays, none. But, the book made sure to add that the survival of the world,
or more specifically, humanity, depended on wizards keeping Earth out of the
hands of demons, opposing the caprices of the elemental lords and keeping the
mad gods locked up… and however the elemental courts might choose to look upon
things, wizards were still human.
Were there any differences between male and female
wizards? According to the book, there were perhaps twice or even thrice as many
female wizards as male, but the males were generally more powerful. Not because
of aptitude, willpower, skill, intelligence or lack thereof, but because the
female body, for some reason, was less capable of handling extremes of energy.
There was no explanation, and there never had been, for the relatively
profligate number of female wizards. Percentage of the general population –
unknown.
Could powers be combined? It turned out that wizards
can cast the same spell to multiply its power, and there were rituals and
artifacts that did far more than merely combine powers.
Could I use the book the teach someone else with the
basic talent? The answer was yes. How could I tell whether someone had such
talent? The brief answer was See the circle of life.
So I leaned back in the armchair, took another sip of
coke (I had a minifridge in the computer room, dark blue to match the décor)
and began to study the circle of life, or at least those few spells and
techniques the primer had. The second circle allowed for temporary enhancement
to the eyes that would show magical auras. Later on, that bit of magic would be
incorporated in me permanently.
It was more than a mite strange to think of myself as
an incomplete jigsaw puzzle. I recalled all those scientific mentions of how
much of the brain we normally use, and guessed that part of the change would
open up more gray matter for habitation. Diagrams and incredibly detailed
illustrations of everything from a single finger to internal organs to the head
were shown in tantalizing glimpses, opening up to show precise details.
The book explained that the first circles of mind and
spirit contained the spells of sight beyond sight, the ability to see things as
they truly are, which is a requisite for any changes that do not involve
outright destruction. Blasting away was simple, if costly in energy – changing
and repairing were the real challenges.
The first two spells I managed to cast dealt with accelerated
growth, and slicing. Which is to say, I spent six hours watching my fingernails
grow, while I muttered arcane words over them and twitched the knuckles ever so
subtly, slice, rinse and repeat. I had to visualize the nails lengthening,
which was the hardest part of it. After I managed to grow them to a respectable
size, which took about twenty minutes, I cut them with the second spell. That
one was considerably more difficult, because the somatic motions demanded that
you raise and lower every finger other than the one you whose nail you were
slicing away. It’s awfully hard to move every finger but one in tandem. So it
took more than half an hour each time, and I cut them pretty raggedly the first
three times I tried it.
That left me utterly bushed and famished. I ate
another elephant sized meal, packed away all the grocery and food deliveries,
and spent an hour unknotting the tension that had crept over seemingly every
muscle. Stretches and warmup, some martial arts practice and weights, followed
by a visit to the hot tub/jaccuzi. Very relaxing indeed.
Having only just barely managed to stumble through two
minor spells in half a day of work, I asked the book to estimate how long it
would take me to master the rituals for physical transformation and mental
discipline. A month was somewhat longer than I’d hoped, but a lot less than I’d
expected following the disappointing results of the morning and noon. Even the
most basic physical enhancements were third circle, and there was no real end
to them in view. The book informed me, of its own volition, that the speed of
learning should thereafter increase by a factor of fifty, at the very minimum.
Another of the more immediately useful changes would be improved muscle memory
– I wouldn’t have to practice quite so much.
The book also detailed the requirements for the
ritual, and mentioned that magical auras could be detected by possible threats.
It added that places where magic was regularly performed acquired an aura all
their own. I couldn’t help but groan. I needed at least one safe house. The
ritual itself was something of a shock. I needed to create a hexagram, each vertex secured by a small
shrine to one of the six elements. In the midst of that, I had to have sex with
a virgin after precasting the spells in the shrines. Oy vey!
Seeking
clarification, I sharpened my questions. “What
is a virgin?” A person who has not experienced vaginal sex with a member of the
opposite sex. That also answered the sex question.
Blinking, I asked, “Can I count as the virgin in the ritual?” Yes. Whoo,
that was a relief. “How long will the spells hold in the shrines? Will the
hexagram be useful for other rituals?” The spells will remain active for 12
hours. The hexagram is reusable, but must be reconsecrated. Whatever that
means, I’d rather not read about it now.
Building the shrines would be a major headache, never
mind the expense, and situating a bed in the exact center would be another one.
I needed to go house hunting, but now I had additional requirements. Prudently,
I asked what else would be required in a home location. The answer was very
detailed, and extremely involved. Apparently, building lines, location and
materials affected the natural flows of force, and architecture and geomancy
was something every wizard worthy of the name needed degrees in. The
mathematics were also rather complicated, and impossible to apply without the
ability to see the flows. A pool and basement were mandatory, as was a place
exposed to the winds. Feng Shui, it seemed, was for amateurs. Wonderful.
The book added that the optimum residence could only
be constructed by bound elementals. That was not a realistic option, not
anytime soon. Especially as the book of wizardry did not contain any but the
most basic binding rituals.
I rescheduled the house hunt. Next week was too soon,
as I needed to master at least the second circle of life, so as to be able to
see properly before deciding. Most real-estate firms keep video of their
offerings now, and I put looking into that on the To Do list for Sunday.
I was getting swamped and I needed to delegate.
Unfortunately, most of the things I needed accomplished could not be done by
anyone else.
One thing however, could be. I needed to hunt for
books of magic, and snap up as many as I could find, as quickly as possible…
while keeping my location and existence secret. Not a problem.
The book gave me a long list of titles, and I speed
typed them into a document file. Then I left my Logan Reeves identity, becoming
Richard Morgan, and called in a favor I’d done a co-worker. Ellis Wright had
had to take care of his children when his wife broke an arm and a leg in a
traffic accident, and I’d finished a couple of projects for him.
I sent him the list, and asked that he search the web
and everywhere else he could think of, and send me links to where they might be
found. I added an incentive – each book I managed to acquire would net him a
$100. I don’t like to rely on gratitude alone, and this was something that
needed to be done properly. Ellis was sharp and he’d do a good job with the
mercenary prod added.
Richard Morgan was a P.O.B number, but even so I’d
need a cutaway. I’d arranged one a long time ago, a matter of a little
blackmail. After I’d started learning codebreaking and hacking, my dad asked me
to look into a matter of credit card fraud against some of his bank’s clients.
It was an irresistible challenge, really.
I found the bastard after four months of hard work,
during which I learned an awful lot. A married plus two urchins 26 year old high
school computer teacher named Ramon Andrassy, who’d decided to supplement his
income. My father, meanwhile, had quite forgotten all about it. Perhaps he’d
considered it a joke, at the time. Regardless, instead of turning him in, I
became an anonymous blackmailer.
No, I did not do anything awful. Or really, anything
much. I told him to stop stealing, and consider what he’d stolen a salary from
me. Thereafter, I used him on more than a dozen little things where I didn’t
want a finger pointed at me… just in case, to gain an additional layer of
insulation. Deliberately, I gave him odd and sometimes nonsensical jobs. Not
because I reveled in my power over him – which, admittedly, I did. The purpose
was to keep him confused and defensive, never to allow him a real understanding
of what I was doing.
In this case, he’d carry loads of strange books and
blind drop them for me. I grinned at the thought of his reaction. He probably
thought I was completely nuts, but there was nothing he could do about it. I
was extra careful to remain completely traceless when communicating with Ramon,
who despite his appearance of a big bruiser, was really smart. Quite possibly
brilliant. Only discrimination and a police record – a girl had once accused
him of rape – kept him from being a lot more. One reason why I hadn’t turned
him in… I had a certain amount of sympathy for the guy. I was pretty sure he’d
never touched the bitch, and he taught me a lot... in a certain roundabout way.
As a further cutout, I’d ask Jimmy Cray to pick the
books up for me. A charter member of the geek squad, I’d stopped him from
getting beaten up merely by being there, twice that I knew of. Personally, I
didn’t think he owed me anything. Kicking the shit out of bullies was another
little hobby of mine, and while Jimmy may have had all the social graces of a
slug, he was a good guy. But telling him that he didn’t owe me anything when he
was quite determined he did would have been a nasty insult. At least, that’s
how I would have felt about it. That sort of thing tells a person that he’s not
important, that his code of honor isn’t worth shit.
I’m sort of a stickler for courtesy and politeness,
and basic respect for other people is a part of that. I remember Heinlein
pointing out that one of the first signs of upcoming societal collapse is a
basic disregard of such things. I’m not sure I agree – that sort of thing is
part of the old foggie disease, as in ‘everything was so much better in the old
days’, his days. People are people, and it’s only circumstances that change. I
wouldn’t go so far as to call sociology a science, but folk do tend to react in
the same way to similar stimulus. I’m skeptical of skeptics, too.
Accumulating people-resources had become something of
a habit for me. Networking is how the world works, and it’s useful in and of
itself. Working on it helped me avoid becoming a hermit, much like trips to the
bookstores and roleplaying meets. Yes, another hobby. In fact, I ran a regular
weekly game on Saturday mornings, and have done so for two years now. We met at
one of the local gaming stores, Paladin, which provided miniatures, battlemaps
and use of a variety of books and gaming aids. I paid for the space myself, and
in fact I’d prepaid and reserved the time for the entirety of next year. I
actually had an rpg dedicated laptop, and one of the gamers usually brought a
small printer and paper.
Lunch with the guys (and the girls) was a Saturday
tradition by now, and sometimes we went right back to gaming after fueling up.
At the moment, I was running a dnd game, Matt, my father’s executive assistant,
was storytelling an Exalted game, and Trina, a history prof at the local
community college, was running an Ars Magica campaign. I was playing in the
Exalted one, but there was no way I could join Trina’s game as well.
With the booksearch up and running, I had to decide
how spend the rest of the day. It wasn’t a terribly difficult decision, as I
absolutely hated having things hanging over my head.
After preparing half a dozen sandwiches, a plate of
cheese and fruits and restocking the minifridge with chilled coke, I went to
work on… well, work. I only managed to finish one of the projects, but the
other was well ahead, and the next morning would do for it. I’d taken half a
dozen breaks to practice spells, learning another first circle energy
manipulation spell which created a localized soft breeze, a prelude to the
great storm and wind magics.
I’d had to restock on food no less than three times,
and was getting alarmed. The book assured me that I would eventually be able to
improve my digestion and metabolism, so I won’t have to spend a third of the
day stuffing myself. Without prompting, it added that I had unusually high
potential, and was learning ahead of the curve. It must have caught my feeling
of dejection and borderline despair, and was trying to cheer me up.
I was so exhausted, I fell asleep into a dreamless
swoon almost the moment I hit the bed. It was only when I woke up that I
realized that I’d spent an entire day yesterday, for the first time in years,
without getting myself off even once.
I avoided panicking, but I was extra fast about
opening the book. There is no change in your sexual drive, it assured
me, The lack of such needs is a result of channeling too much magic through
a body that is not used to it. So long as you press the limits of the powers
you can use, each and every day, your energy levels will be very low.
Well, that was reassuring. The fact that I no longer
needed to frame a question to receive an answer showed that the book had
perceived my certainty – I knew it was reading my mind. By now, it probably
possessed my entire body of knowledge. Doubtless, that was how it had managed
to ‘update’ itself in 1911.
I spent an hour eating and casting the four spells I’d
managed to learn. I tried to handle food with extra long nails, and it wasn’t
too terribly pleasant. Why did women do such things to themselves? I shook my
head, quite certain that wizardry would not hold any answers for the mysteries
inherent in the female mind. Oh, I might read it one day, and I did wonder how
telepathy felt, but I didn’t think I’d actually understand it.
Other than thirty minutes spent swimming in our
backyard pool, the morning was very dry. I finished the project, and the less
said about that the better. The backdoors I installed were exceedingly hard to
find, and always unique. Otherwise, I’d be handing over all too many keys with
each exchange of information in the hacker community.
My parents had e-mailed pictures from Australia, and I
looked through them, smiling, before drafting a reply. My taps caught the
mention of a possible merger between BiaLabs and Atronyx, and I put the
companies on the Watch List, intensifying the spying. Most of the other bits of
data were either long term or of the non-impact variety, and I shelved work for
the day. I’d neglected the news yesterday with all the excitement, and spent a
few minutes catching up. Many more people dead all over the world. I tried to
conjecture, with the book’s help, as to which events might have been
supernatural in origin. The bus accident in Ireland, the book indicated, was
almost certainly a result of wood or earth elemental interference. Tour buses
don’t usually fall off hills.
After another hearty meal, I started a more organized
lesson plan with the book’s help. I was determined to master the available
first circle spells of transmutation, life and energy mastery by the end of
next week. Apparently, it would be easier to do that than try to climb up the
circles of life directly. There was no possibility of touching upon the circles
of mind or spirit, or learning elemental languages and protocol, without
enhancement.
There were certain sounds human throats were not built
to utter, certain gestures and postures the human body could not perform or
assume. Unless they were contortionists or impossibly gifted, that is. I wasn’t
that sort of prodigy.
I went out into the backyard, this time focusing on
plants. I concentrated on a single living leaf, and after several false starts,
managed to slice it in half. Putting it back together would have to wait a
while, but I’d get there too. Learning, visualizing and almost feeling what a
leaf was like was quite awesome. It gave me a sense of calm the frenetic
activity of the last… damn, it was no quite two days since I’d discovered the
book. Or since it had found me. Amazing, how the world can change in an
instant. Nope, I corrected myself, the only change was in me. The world
remained the same, with the changes brought on by time alone. But I was
suddenly aware that there was so much more of it, and the comfortable shape of
my future as I’d planned it out had exploded into a million possibilities.
Retirement at eighteen was no longer something to look forward to – retirement
meant failure, death.
I’d focused myself, to a disturbing degree, on making
money. I just hadn’t seen any other purpose that really meant anything to me. I
was social enough, but I was definitely not a people-person. Politics and
charity were really not my thing. I was smart enough, but I’d rather fund
research than have to follow orders and scrap and beg for money and resources.
Despite wrestling with it, I was just too damned proud. I could handle hardware
very well indeed, but I wasn’t truly mechanically or technically inclined.
Though I was a software person, I wasn’t filled with any sort of messianic
tendencies there. I’d always lacked a purpose beyond myself.
And here was a call to crusade. Oh, the book was
subtle… but I was no fool. What I did could matter. Not just touch a few lives,
not a name remembered or written down, but real change. That was as
intoxicating as the possibilities inherent in wizardry. It was nothing less
than MAGIC.
Not
a fool. So I didn’t expect to part any seas any time soon. There was time. I
needed time. If I survived, I’d make my mark. Of that much, I was certain.