expressively. “ Don’t mention enchantment! Tomorrow I have to face the enchantment masters. I don’t know anything about enchantment, outside of warwands and such. I’m doomed!”
“You aren’t doomed,” Rondal said, patiently, “you’re ignorant. Doomed can’t be solved. Ignorance can,” he said, tapping the book Tyndal was supposed to be reading – Loray of Bannerbane’s Introduction To Thaumaturgy , one of the five his “junior” apprentice had recommended before his thaumaturgy examination with Master Indan tomorrow. “If you start on it tonight, maybe you can get a good lead into it by the time you see him. And then you can study before you see Mistress Selvedine again.”
“Where I can explain to her, proudly, that I am now slightly less ignorant of the Lesser Elements,” Tyndal said, dejectedly. Rondal looked at him with an amused smirk.
“Well, it beats admitting that you are slightly more ignorant, doesn’t it? Start with Thaumaturgy. Master Indan is a good scholar. He’ll be fair.”
Tyndal groaned yet again and picked up the book. He opened it to the first page and began reading aloud.
“ ‘When approaching the delicate art and discipline of Thaumaturgy, that most noble of pursuits for the mage, one must be aware that you are beginning to understand the very nature of magic; for Thaumaturgy is but the Science of magic, just as Medicine is the Science of the body. The ability to impart one’s Will on the universe and see it resolve to your satisfaction is, of course, the very essence of magic, yet it is practiced by many, understood by few. The basics of this sublime science are easy to fathom, in general, but when it comes to the practical application of thaumaturgy to the dissection and analysis of a spell, putting those basics into practice can become one of the most difficult tasks any mage ever does. Beginning with the assumption that magic flows from— ”
Rondal dropped his book on the table in disgust.
“What?” Tyndal asked, alarmed.
“DO you mind?” Rondal asked, annoyed.
“Do I mind what? Thaumaturgy? Hell yes, I mind it! It’s—”
“Not that,” Rondal said, through clenched teeth. “Do you mind not reading out loud? I find it distracting.
Tyndal’s eyes bulged. “You mean . . . read without . . . without saying it?” he asked.
“I do it all the time,” demurred Rondal. “You don’t have to speak the words to hear them in your head.”
Tyndal looked at him skeptically. “You don’t? ”
Rondal rolled his eyes. “No, you mud-brained pud! You read with your eyes. You just don’t . . . talk . You think. Just like mind-to-mind communication, only you’re talking to yourself. Makes things move much faster when your mouth isn’t involved.”
“That’s not been my experience,” Tyndal quipped with a snicker. His humor was wasted on Rondal. “But I’ll try it.”
And he did. To his surprise, he found that not vocalizing the words as he read them increased his pace. Enough so that he wasted precious minutes mentally kicking himself for not thinking of this ages ago. If he just relaxed, and let his eyes move as fast as they needed to . . .
“Hey!” he said, sitting up, suddenly, and forgetting that Rondal wasn’t hearing what he was reading. “Is this true? ”
“What?” groaned Rondal. He hated to be interrupted. That was one of his more annoying traits, as Tyndal had no compunctions about interrupting, and being upbraided about it was irritating. Indeed, Tyndal had to admit he enjoyed interrupting Rondal because it annoyed him.
“That the first magi each made up their own personal systems of magic?”
“That’s what the text says. I wasn’t there.”
“So . . . wild magic . . . that’s just what the first magi were doing?”
Rondal sighed, realizing that his brother apprentice wouldn’t leave him to his book unless he explained. “Right.
“You aren’t doomed,” Rondal said, patiently, “you’re ignorant. Doomed can’t be solved. Ignorance can,” he said, tapping the book Tyndal was supposed to be reading – Loray of Bannerbane’s Introduction To Thaumaturgy , one of the five his “junior” apprentice had recommended before his thaumaturgy examination with Master Indan tomorrow. “If you start on it tonight, maybe you can get a good lead into it by the time you see him. And then you can study before you see Mistress Selvedine again.”
“Where I can explain to her, proudly, that I am now slightly less ignorant of the Lesser Elements,” Tyndal said, dejectedly. Rondal looked at him with an amused smirk.
“Well, it beats admitting that you are slightly more ignorant, doesn’t it? Start with Thaumaturgy. Master Indan is a good scholar. He’ll be fair.”
Tyndal groaned yet again and picked up the book. He opened it to the first page and began reading aloud.
“ ‘When approaching the delicate art and discipline of Thaumaturgy, that most noble of pursuits for the mage, one must be aware that you are beginning to understand the very nature of magic; for Thaumaturgy is but the Science of magic, just as Medicine is the Science of the body. The ability to impart one’s Will on the universe and see it resolve to your satisfaction is, of course, the very essence of magic, yet it is practiced by many, understood by few. The basics of this sublime science are easy to fathom, in general, but when it comes to the practical application of thaumaturgy to the dissection and analysis of a spell, putting those basics into practice can become one of the most difficult tasks any mage ever does. Beginning with the assumption that magic flows from— ”
Rondal dropped his book on the table in disgust.
“What?” Tyndal asked, alarmed.
“DO you mind?” Rondal asked, annoyed.
“Do I mind what? Thaumaturgy? Hell yes, I mind it! It’s—”
“Not that,” Rondal said, through clenched teeth. “Do you mind not reading out loud? I find it distracting.
Tyndal’s eyes bulged. “You mean . . . read without . . . without saying it?” he asked.
“I do it all the time,” demurred Rondal. “You don’t have to speak the words to hear them in your head.”
Tyndal looked at him skeptically. “You don’t? ”
Rondal rolled his eyes. “No, you mud-brained pud! You read with your eyes. You just don’t . . . talk . You think. Just like mind-to-mind communication, only you’re talking to yourself. Makes things move much faster when your mouth isn’t involved.”
“That’s not been my experience,” Tyndal quipped with a snicker. His humor was wasted on Rondal. “But I’ll try it.”
And he did. To his surprise, he found that not vocalizing the words as he read them increased his pace. Enough so that he wasted precious minutes mentally kicking himself for not thinking of this ages ago. If he just relaxed, and let his eyes move as fast as they needed to . . .
“Hey!” he said, sitting up, suddenly, and forgetting that Rondal wasn’t hearing what he was reading. “Is this true? ”
“What?” groaned Rondal. He hated to be interrupted. That was one of his more annoying traits, as Tyndal had no compunctions about interrupting, and being upbraided about it was irritating. Indeed, Tyndal had to admit he enjoyed interrupting Rondal because it annoyed him.
“That the first magi each made up their own personal systems of magic?”
“That’s what the text says. I wasn’t there.”
“So . . . wild magic . . . that’s just what the first magi were doing?”
Rondal sighed, realizing that his brother apprentice wouldn’t leave him to his book unless he explained. “Right.
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