"Yet you are surprised by my home."
"And you seem obsessed by my surprise."
"Because I am trying to understand you."
"Why is that necessary for someone like you?"
Ansas expression of mild amusement turned to a scowl of disappointment.
"Let me warn you, my patience has a limit. You are here at my will. For some reason, I often have to explain myself to others that can't see the rationale for my actions. I allow that because I understand your limitations, but only within reason. Now, for the last time, why are you surprised by my home?"
Scheff, not truly wanting to cooperate, didn't want to anger the sorcerer, either. He found no harm in revealing the truth about his expectations.
"You are right. I expected more. I would have thought you would have surrounded yourself with a sanctuary befitting the power of your magic. A king does not live in a hut. An emperor does not call a meager cottage a home."
"Foolish," Ansas replied with a shake of his head. "I expected more from you."
"I am sorry I disappointed you."
The sorcerer's eyes narrowed and his disappointment soured more toward hostility.
"Just as I do not like evasive answers, I also do not appreciate sarcasm. Do not test me. I assure you, despite the credit I freely give to your skills, you are nothing to me."
Scheff almost replied with even greater sarcasm, but something in the sorcerer's words caught his attention. He believed he had actually been complimented by the sorcerer, and he further believed that such an offering was rare indeed.
"Now, to the six of you," Ansas declared with authority as he abruptly ended his discussion with Scheff and addressed the six elves that stood off to his left. "You aided the other spell casters by channeling energy into them. I wish to know how each of you approached the process."
None of the elves responded.
"I don't care which one of you goes first," Ansas proclaimed, "but one of you better begin."
The six elves remained quiet.
Ansas did not sigh or shake his head, nor did he grumble in frustration. He understood that, for the most part, the elves within his study were leaderless. Scheff had assumed some measure of authority, for his skill with magic was unmatched by the other elves, except for maybe Haven. And while Haven remained cautious, neither she nor Scheff would presume to speak for the entire group.
The other elves had no one to look to for guidance. There was no elf guard to take control, no elf from the council to direct them, and no elder to assume command. The six elves he questioned became rigid in their unwillingness to aid the sorcerer.
Ansas could persuade them with his magic, punish and torture them, but that would be both a waste of his time and energy. It annoyed him to deal with such petty concerns, but certain irritations seemed unavoidable.
Ansas stood up from his chair and walked to one of the shelves. He snatched a stack of papers and quickly paged through them. Finding the one he wanted, he handed it to one of the elves that was responsible for channeling magic to the other spell casters.
"Read this out loud," the sorcerer demanded. "I want everyone to hear it."
The elf said nothing at first. He only looked down at the hand written notes. After reading a few lines to himself, he decided to start over at the beginning and read them for all the elves to hear.
"'Ebony magic directed with a mix toward shadow and alteration has the power to move through the mind as a sponge, a knife, or both. In regards to a sponge, it can absorb thoughts by becoming a shadow of memories. After the spell is given adequate time to seep into the target's mind, the shadow must only be consumed by the caster and the thoughts become apparent. With added alteration, the very same thoughts can be erased from the target's mind. With greater concentration focused upon alteration and less on shadow, the magic can be utilized to seize the thoughts by cutting through the layers of consciousness and creating a silhouette of each broken strand. By themselves, the strands are nothing more than jumbled memories, but the silhouette will seek to reform into an organized image and bring the thoughts back into their original form.'"
The elf stopped and looked up at the sorcerer who had returned to his desk.
"I hope the point of that is not lost on any of you," Ansas stated. "I don't need to be congenial. I can simply take what I want from you, but I will ask again-and this is the last time-how did you approach the process of channeling the energy to the casters?"
It was Scheff who spoke up.
"One of you answer him."
Ansas raised an eyebrow.
"Are you assuming responsibility for them all?"
"If I have to."
"That's not quite the elf way."
"I do not want to see anyone get hurt."
"What you want is irrelevant. I'm not looking for resignation or even surrender. Surrender means nothing to me in this particular case. I seek information."
One of the other elves who understood the sinister meaning behind the words from the paper decided to speak up rather than have his mind invaded by magic he knew he could not withstand.
"I think of buckets."
Ansas immediately disregarded Scheff and turned to the other elf.
"Buckets?"
"Yes, I view the target of the spell as the final receptacle, one large container that has to be constantly filled. I use other buckets to scoop up all the magic within me and then pour it into the receptacle."
Ansas shook his head and dismissed the consideration with a wave of his hand.
"Your thought process is inefficient. You created a series of intermittent steps when they are not necessary. What about you?" the sorcerer demanded as he turned to another elf.
"I think of a flood. The magic has to…"
"Completely foolish," Ansas interrupted, unwilling to hear anything further. "The principle is reversed. There is no flood. The magic is diminishing. It is the complete opposite."
"I project a wave," another elf offered.
"What kind of wave?"
"Like on the sea. It pulls more magic in from…"
Ansas waved that elf off as well.
"More nonsense. All of you seem obsessed with water, but that can't be right. One of you was doing something different. Now I want to know who it was and what guided the process!"
"Hunger," a young elf whispered.
Ansas eyed the elf.
"Say again!"
"Hunger," the elf repeated, and then expanded on the thought process. "The caster is burning through energy and must be replenished. Hunger."
"A flame based technique. Very interesting. Do you inherently cast in an orange hue?"
The elf nodded.
Ansas had learned what he needed and disregarded the elves around him. He placed a blank sheet of paper on his desk and began to speak. As he did, his words appeared magically on the paper. It was as if his hand completed each stroke of ink, but such mundane tasks were no longer necessary for a sorcerer of such power.
"Forming links of magic from one caster to another can be accomplished in several manners, with some more efficient than others. Utilizing the concept of hunger can facilitate a substantial transfer of energy, especially if concentrating upon replenishing the energy in a similar fashion that food or fuel is used to sustain fire. In order to utilize ebony power, hunger must be viewed as a transitional state. Expelling magic through incantations leads to a loss of energy, an alteration from a full state toward an empty state. In terms of ebony magic, it is the transition that is key. Hunger is not the process, but the flag, the warning that a state of change has taken place. Change in the other direction is necessary to remove the hunger."
Ansas stopped and reviewed the writings. He nodded and put the sheet of paper upon another pile. Satisfied, he returned to his chair and sat back down.
"Is that all you wanted?" Scheff asked.
"From those six? Yes."