didn’t even reflect the fluctuations in the sky, or his
own face, for that matter, and his fear and queasiness eased a little.
Then, beneath the surface, streaks and blobs of soft colour
shimmered into being. He cried out in dismay.
“It’s all right,” said the priest. “This is something
different. Just keep looking.”
“Very well.” Why not? Even if the pool altered in some
ghastly fashion, how could it be more horrific than the transformations
occurring everywhere else?
The colours in the water took on definition until they formed
a recognisable image. A man and a woman, both tall, slender and blond, lay on
their sides in a canopy bed. The man was facing his companion, but she had her
back to him. Though the room was dark, enough light leaked through the curtains
to reveal the butterflies and roses in the tapestry on the wall.
Dieter caught his breath in surprise. He was looking at his
parents as they’d appeared long before their deaths, when he himself was a
child.
“I know you can never forgive me,” his mother said.
“I can and do,” his father replied.
“How?” she spat. “I betrayed you! I gave birth to an
abomination and passed it off as your son!”
He put his hand on her shoulder. “It was ten years ago, and
back then, I was unfaithful, too. So the way I see it, Dieter isn’t just the
punishment for your sins but for mine as well. The important thing is, the
Celestial College will take him. We don’t have to live under the same roof with
him or even see him again.”
“This never happened,” Dieter said.
“Were you privy to what they whispered to one another in
bed?” asked the priest.
“It can’t have happened! They didn’t fear or despise magic.
They sent me to Altdorf because I wanted and needed to go.”
“Just watch,” said the priest.
The scene in the water dissolved into drifting colours, which
then flowed together and sharpened to present a new picture. The adolescent
Dieter, clad in the blue-trimmed garb of an apprentice of his order, rapped on a
familiar door.
“Come in,” Franz Lukas answered.
Dieter entered his mentor’s study, cluttered with books,
taxonomic charts of birds and clouds, anemometers, astrolabes and other
implements of Celestial wizardry. With his brilliant blue eyes shining beneath
scraggly white brows, the elderly but still robust and energetic magician was no
less emblematic of his particular art.
“Shut it behind you,” Magister Lukas said.
The young Dieter obeyed. “You sent for me, sir?”
“Yes,” the teacher said. “You’ve come a long way in your
studies. You’re the most promising apprentice I’ve seen in a while.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“So I think you deserve a reward.” Magister Lukas opened a
desk drawer and produced a small book. “Make sure no one else sees it.”
After a moment’s hesitation, the youth took the book and
opened the cover. “The Principles of Alchemy.” He clapped the volume shut.
“Master, this is the Lore of Metal!”
“So it is.”
“Are you testing me?”
“Perhaps, but not in the way you suppose. I know your
teachers, myself included, have drummed it into you that you must restrict
yourself to the Lore of the Heavens. Any human wizard who seeks to invoke more
than one of the eight winds of magic likewise opens himself to the Chaos from
which they derive, and must inevitably come to ruin.”
“Yes, sir.”
Magister Lukas snorted. “No. It’s nonsense. The false
rationale for a stricture imposed on us to keep us from realising our potential
and ordering all things to please ourselves. The best of us, the wisest and
boldest, refuse to wear such a shackle. We acquire knowledge and power wherever
we can find them. I believe you’re one of the best, or at least you could be. Am
I right?”
The young Dieter hesitated, then tucked the book inside his
shirt.
“No!” his older counterpart exploded. “I know this couldn’t
have happened! I was
own face, for that matter, and his fear and queasiness eased a little.
Then, beneath the surface, streaks and blobs of soft colour
shimmered into being. He cried out in dismay.
“It’s all right,” said the priest. “This is something
different. Just keep looking.”
“Very well.” Why not? Even if the pool altered in some
ghastly fashion, how could it be more horrific than the transformations
occurring everywhere else?
The colours in the water took on definition until they formed
a recognisable image. A man and a woman, both tall, slender and blond, lay on
their sides in a canopy bed. The man was facing his companion, but she had her
back to him. Though the room was dark, enough light leaked through the curtains
to reveal the butterflies and roses in the tapestry on the wall.
Dieter caught his breath in surprise. He was looking at his
parents as they’d appeared long before their deaths, when he himself was a
child.
“I know you can never forgive me,” his mother said.
“I can and do,” his father replied.
“How?” she spat. “I betrayed you! I gave birth to an
abomination and passed it off as your son!”
He put his hand on her shoulder. “It was ten years ago, and
back then, I was unfaithful, too. So the way I see it, Dieter isn’t just the
punishment for your sins but for mine as well. The important thing is, the
Celestial College will take him. We don’t have to live under the same roof with
him or even see him again.”
“This never happened,” Dieter said.
“Were you privy to what they whispered to one another in
bed?” asked the priest.
“It can’t have happened! They didn’t fear or despise magic.
They sent me to Altdorf because I wanted and needed to go.”
“Just watch,” said the priest.
The scene in the water dissolved into drifting colours, which
then flowed together and sharpened to present a new picture. The adolescent
Dieter, clad in the blue-trimmed garb of an apprentice of his order, rapped on a
familiar door.
“Come in,” Franz Lukas answered.
Dieter entered his mentor’s study, cluttered with books,
taxonomic charts of birds and clouds, anemometers, astrolabes and other
implements of Celestial wizardry. With his brilliant blue eyes shining beneath
scraggly white brows, the elderly but still robust and energetic magician was no
less emblematic of his particular art.
“Shut it behind you,” Magister Lukas said.
The young Dieter obeyed. “You sent for me, sir?”
“Yes,” the teacher said. “You’ve come a long way in your
studies. You’re the most promising apprentice I’ve seen in a while.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“So I think you deserve a reward.” Magister Lukas opened a
desk drawer and produced a small book. “Make sure no one else sees it.”
After a moment’s hesitation, the youth took the book and
opened the cover. “The Principles of Alchemy.” He clapped the volume shut.
“Master, this is the Lore of Metal!”
“So it is.”
“Are you testing me?”
“Perhaps, but not in the way you suppose. I know your
teachers, myself included, have drummed it into you that you must restrict
yourself to the Lore of the Heavens. Any human wizard who seeks to invoke more
than one of the eight winds of magic likewise opens himself to the Chaos from
which they derive, and must inevitably come to ruin.”
“Yes, sir.”
Magister Lukas snorted. “No. It’s nonsense. The false
rationale for a stricture imposed on us to keep us from realising our potential
and ordering all things to please ourselves. The best of us, the wisest and
boldest, refuse to wear such a shackle. We acquire knowledge and power wherever
we can find them. I believe you’re one of the best, or at least you could be. Am
I right?”
The young Dieter hesitated, then tucked the book inside his
shirt.
“No!” his older counterpart exploded. “I know this couldn’t
have happened! I was
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