Read Online Knights Magi (Book 4) by Terry Mancour - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Terry Mancour
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in the Manciple’s Library he’d planned for the early afternoon and worked out for a few hours with Galdan in the guard’s yard, practicing footwork and combinations of blows until after lunch, when he went directly to Master Trondel for his next test on Elementary Enchantment.
This one was a little more difficult, as his knowledge of the elements of enchanting physical objects was very limited. But he had discovered a tightly-written monograph on the subject in the Main Library that covered many common materials, and he was able to rattle them off as if he was reading the scroll.
“More study,” the taciturn old master insisted, “but you seem to know your knot coral from your knuckleweed,” he agreed. “And your understanding of the role of thaumaturgic glass in placing a permanent enchantment is noteworthy. I only wish my other students were as canny with that.”
Tyndal was elated. With only his Thermomantics, Photomantics, Geometry and Symbology exams to get through next, he started to regain some of his confidence. And since the next two days were feast days (Briga’s Day, specifically) with no regular classes he had some time to study. The lousy weather helped: Inarion had a wet, cool winter without even the benefit of snow. That lent to studying, instead of swordplay. No one liked to spar in the mud.
Tyndal was discovering that despite himself he was beginning to appreciate magic as an academic subject, now that his challenges with reading were abated. In some ways that made the task harder. As easy as it was to recall a text with a spell, that didn’t automatically bring understanding of the subject to the apprentice. He realized that Rondal’s perspective of the value of knowing why a spell works was, indeed, important.
Being able to recite the five kinds of knot coral, for instance, didn’t give him any true understanding of how it worked. Or how its properties could be best used. He could rattle off one symbol after another from the Symbolography of Master Mires , but that didn’t tell him how or why they were useful.
Rondal, on the other hand, seemed to be absorbing knowledge like a sponge . . . without the secret benefit of Psychomancy. Despite his new studying regimen Tyndal found him even more resentful of his fellow’s easy understanding of magic. Especially when he seemed to prefer it to all other pursuits – feminine companionship, for example. Tyndal didn’t hesitate to use his ability to easily talk to girls against Rondal when Rondal started showing off his impressive brain.
When Tyndal had returned from his final exam before the festival holiday, Rondal was finishing a book he had started in the morning. The rain made an almost hypnotic sound on the roof, and that encouraged the exhaustion they were both feeling. The warm fire in the grate did not help their languor. Rondal stretched tiredly.
“I love this place,” he admitted, after they had both agreed to get some sleep. “I could live in that library.”
“You practically do live in the library,” Tyndal grumbled as he slipped off his day clothes. “Really, you should go meet some girls. You . . . you do like girls, don’t you?” Tyndal asked, feigning a sudden unsureness. “If you don’t , I understand, I just—”
“Of course I like girls, you idiot,” sighed Rondal. “I’m not an Adrusine. But I have my whole life to chase skirts. I’ve only got a short time here at Inarion to chase parchment.”
“You need to carefully re-evaluate your personal priorities, Sir Rondal,” observed Tyndal, thoughtfully.
“Says the mage who spent three days trying to encapsulate his own farts last fall,” remarked Rondal, amusedly.
“It was an interesting personal course of study,” Tyndal defended. “And if I recall you did want to learn the spell, after I figured it out.”
“Tyndal, you have access to more books on magic than most magi get in a
This one was a little more difficult, as his knowledge of the elements of enchanting physical objects was very limited. But he had discovered a tightly-written monograph on the subject in the Main Library that covered many common materials, and he was able to rattle them off as if he was reading the scroll.
“More study,” the taciturn old master insisted, “but you seem to know your knot coral from your knuckleweed,” he agreed. “And your understanding of the role of thaumaturgic glass in placing a permanent enchantment is noteworthy. I only wish my other students were as canny with that.”
Tyndal was elated. With only his Thermomantics, Photomantics, Geometry and Symbology exams to get through next, he started to regain some of his confidence. And since the next two days were feast days (Briga’s Day, specifically) with no regular classes he had some time to study. The lousy weather helped: Inarion had a wet, cool winter without even the benefit of snow. That lent to studying, instead of swordplay. No one liked to spar in the mud.
Tyndal was discovering that despite himself he was beginning to appreciate magic as an academic subject, now that his challenges with reading were abated. In some ways that made the task harder. As easy as it was to recall a text with a spell, that didn’t automatically bring understanding of the subject to the apprentice. He realized that Rondal’s perspective of the value of knowing why a spell works was, indeed, important.
Being able to recite the five kinds of knot coral, for instance, didn’t give him any true understanding of how it worked. Or how its properties could be best used. He could rattle off one symbol after another from the Symbolography of Master Mires , but that didn’t tell him how or why they were useful.
Rondal, on the other hand, seemed to be absorbing knowledge like a sponge . . . without the secret benefit of Psychomancy. Despite his new studying regimen Tyndal found him even more resentful of his fellow’s easy understanding of magic. Especially when he seemed to prefer it to all other pursuits – feminine companionship, for example. Tyndal didn’t hesitate to use his ability to easily talk to girls against Rondal when Rondal started showing off his impressive brain.
When Tyndal had returned from his final exam before the festival holiday, Rondal was finishing a book he had started in the morning. The rain made an almost hypnotic sound on the roof, and that encouraged the exhaustion they were both feeling. The warm fire in the grate did not help their languor. Rondal stretched tiredly.
“I love this place,” he admitted, after they had both agreed to get some sleep. “I could live in that library.”
“You practically do live in the library,” Tyndal grumbled as he slipped off his day clothes. “Really, you should go meet some girls. You . . . you do like girls, don’t you?” Tyndal asked, feigning a sudden unsureness. “If you don’t , I understand, I just—”
“Of course I like girls, you idiot,” sighed Rondal. “I’m not an Adrusine. But I have my whole life to chase skirts. I’ve only got a short time here at Inarion to chase parchment.”
“You need to carefully re-evaluate your personal priorities, Sir Rondal,” observed Tyndal, thoughtfully.
“Says the mage who spent three days trying to encapsulate his own farts last fall,” remarked Rondal, amusedly.
“It was an interesting personal course of study,” Tyndal defended. “And if I recall you did want to learn the spell, after I figured it out.”
“Tyndal, you have access to more books on magic than most magi get in a
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