Most of it was not particularly pertinent to disposing of evil sons of rival dukedoms, but one piece did catch my eye as fairly useful. My use of the sleep spell on Devon the night before had made me acutely aware of how easily someone could be rendered helpless. I was more than a little worried that he might be able to do something similar to me in the future, since I half suspected him of being a wizard himself. I wasn’t the first mage to have such thoughts apparently. A lot of attention was given to the methods which could be used to shield a mage’s mind and body from harmful outside influences, or in some cases the results of his own mistakes.
The simplest method was to shutter the mind. Some men I learned were born with no ability to manipulate aythar at all. They were known as ‘stoics’ and I recognized the type in my friend Dorian. A mage could, with some practice, mimic their ability, or rather their lack of ability, and gain the same benefits. To do so would temporarily rob me of my ‘sight’ while shielding my mind from external influences. Because of its disadvantages it was primarily used at night to protect oneself while sleeping since it required no active effort.
The hardest part of mastering it was finding a way to tell if I had successfully ‘shut’ my mind. Eventually I hit on the idea of staring at the book on Lycian. Since normal folk couldn’t see its glow I could use it to tell when I had properly closed myself off. It didn’t take long for me to manage it after that. The sensation was akin to shutting your eyes, and it unsettled me more than I thought it would. Without being aware of it I had already begun to rely on subtle cues my magesight allowed me. Closing it off made me feel blind. I decided that I agreed with the mages of yore, sleep would be the best time for it.
The second method was to create a shield of aythar. The technique could be used in several ways depending on how much and what type of protection was desired. The least tiring was to create an internal shield that protected only the practitioner's mind. The result was similar to the other method with the exception that you could still use your ‘sight’ and abilities without impairment. Slightly more involved was the creation of a shield covering the entire body to protect one from physical as well as magical assaults. According to the legends in Vestrius’ journal some great wizards were able to manage this during all their waking hours. The legends made it clear that not only were the great wizards paranoid, but they were well justified in their paranoia. Sometimes even that protection was not enough to save them.
Lastly, in times of need, some wizards had been able to create shields extending much farther from their bodies, to protect friends and sometimes even buildings. It was considered risky, since the effort could exhaust the caster and a particularly strong assault might even kill them if it used up more power than they had to give.
I practiced with both types, first trying to protect just my mind. Without someone to test it for me I couldn’t be sure I had done it properly, but the amount of energy it required was negligible. Producing a large shield to protect my entire body was easier, though it required more effort. Since it extended just beyond my body I could actually see the energy as it enveloped me. It was nearly imperceptible, even to my sight, but by modifying the spell slightly I found I could color it with visible light, making it easier to see.
I found these exercises tiring but they left me feeling better about my ability to protect myself. Still it was a relief when a knock interrupted me. I had shielded the divan (as a stand in for another person) and I was attempting to beat it to death with the chair. I failed to stop myself in time and Marc opened the door just as I struck it for the final time. This was my third swing at it, and this time instead of simply rebounding the chair had splintered with a resounding ‘crack’.
“If you are that upset with the room’s appointments I could have let you trade apartments with someone else,” he said in a droll tone.
“Ah… this isn’t what it looks like.” I said, giving him a sheepish look.
“If this was the first time you had said that to me I might doubt you, but knowing you I honestly believe it,” he said with a laugh. “Seriously though, why are you hell bent on smashing up the furniture?”
I thought for a moment before I smiled, “Second law of magic.”
We had been bantering since we were kids so he played along, “Which is?”
“Try new spells on the furniture before you risk other people or pets,” I rattled off.
He laughed, “So what’s the first law?”
I took a professorial pose and lifted my hand in an imperious manner, “Try new spells on other people or pets before you risk yourself.”
We laughed a bit, and it felt good. Things had been so tense lately it was nice to be reminded of our younger days. “So why have you come in search of me young supplicant? Love potions? A cure for the piles? All things are within the power of the great Mordecai.”
“I thought you might want to take in the fireworks tonight. Father hired the illuminator’s guild to put on a show for our guests tonight,” he replied.
I was impressed, fireworks were expensive and I had only seen them once before when we were younger. The illuminator’s guild was a secretive organization that guarded the secrets of producing pyrotechnics. They were often mistaken for magicians because of the dazzling nature of their shows, but their devices were made with the help of science and chemistry. Everyone within ten miles of Lancaster would show up to see it.
We talked about the impending show for several minutes before I got serious. “Have you spoken to Dorian or Penny yet today?”
His expression changed, “I haven’t seen Dorian, but I ran into Penny earlier.”
I immediately pressed him for the details of their exchange. After he had described their meeting I found myself more disturbed than ever. “What’s wrong?” he said. “You look angry.”
It was difficult, but starting slowly I related the events of the previous night to him. His face grew dark and by the end he was swearing under his breath. “That explains a bit anyway,” he said.
“What?”
“The reason Dorian pressed his father to put a guard on your door this morning. I never ran into him, but he talked Thornbear into setting a guard in the hall till you woke up this afternoon,” he explained. I was surprised. Dorian was more protective than I had thought.
“Do you think he told his father?” I asked.
“No, if he had told him Thornbear would have raised hell with my father.”
“You think so?”
“Most assuredly, and with Lord Thornbear pressing the case Father would have been forced to act, probably to expel Devon from his demesne,” he grimaced.
“What would that do?” I wondered aloud.
“Start a lot of trouble. Tremont would be honor bound to complain to the king. The Lancasters would have to present evidence at the king’s court to support our insult to Tremont.” He looked at me.
“And?”
“And we couldn’t prove anything. At the least we would be fined to satisfy Tremont’s honor, at the worst it would mean war.” Marc sat on the divan and put his head in his hands. He thought for a while, “Why didn’t you just expose the villain when you caught him red handed? The evidence would have been on our side then.”
“Penny,” I said simply. I gave him a stare that spoke volumes about how I felt that he had even suggested it.