Did you die after you joined with the earth and defeated Balinthor?”
“The problem is really created by trying to force reality to fit into the form of language. Moira Centyr did not die, she changed, became something else… a part of the earth itself. From a human perspective, and in most ways that matter to humans, she died. I am what she left behind, an impression of her knowledge, an imprint of who she was, preserved within the earth… an echo of her mind.”
I had a sinking feeling this was going to be a long introduction. I tried again, “So you’re sort of a ghost?”
“No, I am her knowledge, preserved within the earth,” she replied.
Same difference, I thought, but I didn’t voice my opinion. “It sounds as if the distinction is mostly academic. Rather than split hairs over the details how about we just call you ‘Moira’ for simplicity’s sake,” I suggested. “Let’s return to the original question, why couldn’t you speak to me like this while I was bound to Penny?”
“Because I am not Moira Centyr, I am a memory. I have no volition, no will or motivating self beyond that which you provide. That is why I said that I am you in one sense.”
Understanding was beginning to dawn, but I still wasn’t clear on everything yet, “then why did you answer when I called you by that name… Moira. ”
“I answered because you called. Your will, your desire, your motivation compel me to act, to respond. You provide the volition that creates this semblance of who Moira Centyr was, without your living will I am no more alive than the ground beneath your feet. I am a memory, given life and substance by your connection to the earth and your desire for answers.”
I understood now but I was feeling argumentative, “The ground beneath my feet is alive. I’ve learned that much already.”
She smiled then, flashing teeth like white pebbles, “That is true also, but the ground beneath your feet has no desire to speak or debate topics of human knowledge. It was given this knowledge by Moira Centyr and it acquires the desire to speak from your own living will.”
“So I really am speaking to the earth.”
“I am the earth, but I am not its voice… I am an echo of a woman who has passed beyond the knowledge of how to be human,” she said. It might have been my imagination, but I almost heard a hint of wistfulness in her voice as she said it. I felt intuitively that her words were true, but I doubted they were the final truth.
A question popped into my mind suddenly. “Are there others?”
“Others?”
“Other impressions, memories left behind by previous archmages, like you…,” I clarified.
“Not that I am aware of,” she answered simply.
The answer disappointed me and left me more curious, “Why not? Are you the only archmage to have… er… been lost… or joined with the earth?”
“No, when I was alive I was taught that several had been lost in this way before.”
“So why do you exist?” As the question left my mouth it occurred to me that it was a deep question that could just as easily be applied to myself.
“I was created to guard and preserve certain things, the Centyr family has always had a peculiar talent not found in the other great lineages.” she said. Her voice had an almost hesitant tone to it, as if she answered reluctantly.
Of course that begged the question, “Such as?”
Her blue eyes bore into mine, “What you see before you… I am a ‘splinter’ of the original Moira Centyr, a weakened copy if you will.”
The idea intrigued me, “This was something unique to your family? Were all of the Centyr mages able to do this?”
“The ability to create a living body is something only an archmage could manage and there have been few of those among my ancestors. However Centyr wizards were frequently able to create semi-sentient enchantments of objects to contain knowledge… I am merely the extreme extension of that ability. As far as I know I am the only example of… whatever it is you would label me,” she gestured to her body as she finished.
“And what was your creator’s intention when she made you?”
“The preservation of knowledge, to help you… Although I have no will or power to act remaining to me I can teach you what I knew, if you desire my wisdom. And…,” she began to say something else but stopped.
“What?” I prodded.
“Nothing.”
“It didn’t sound like nothing, what else is there?”
“I am not ready to share everything yet, not until I know your purposes better… not until I am sure you can survive,” she stated bluntly.
“I thought you acted according to my will,” I inquired, “How can a simulacrum be stubborn… or cautious?”
“Some things we are driven to protect so strongly that the desire can survive even this…,” she gestured at her earthen form, sweeping her arms delicately downward.
I had the feeling I wasn’t going to get anywhere trying to pry an answer from her at this point so I mentally shelved the question for later. A larger question loomed before me, “You said others had been ‘lost’ like you were… how did you wind up like this? More importantly could this happen to me?”
She smiled again, “A good question… and part of the reason I was created. It involves the fundamental difference between wizardry and what an archmage does. A mage uses his own power to effect change in the world around him, just as a normal man might use the strength of his arm and an axe to fell a tree. A mage wields his power and causes things to happen, in contrast, an archmage listens to the world.”
“That doesn’t sound very useful, or powerful. The histories say you defeated a dark god, surely you didn’t do that by ‘listening’,” I insisted.
“Correct, I didn’t crush Balinthor by just listening, and that is why I became as I am now. I sought power beyond human comprehension, the power of the earth entire, and I gained it,” she stopped there.
“I’m confused,” I admitted.
She stared intently at me and I found myself fascinated with the light glinting from the deep sapphires that served as her ‘eyes’. Finally she opened her mouth to speak again, “An archmage does not wield power, Mordecai. An archmage becomes that which they seek to wield.”
Chapter 5
Moira Centyr, or rather the creature I called Moira, watched me for a long moment, waiting for her words to sink in. I blinked several times as my own experiences over the past year shifted within my mind, reorganizing in light of what she had just told me. Several things clicked into place as I looked back, and my memory of the voice of the wind and the sensation I had had… of losing my ‘self’… stood out clearly in my mind.
Just a few days ago I had nearly taken to the skies… just to track a man a few miles further than my regular senses would follow. What if I hadn’t come back? What if Ariadne hadn’t gotten my attention? Would I have become a zephyr? A part of the wind… lost forever between the clouds, with no memory of my prior life? The implications were startling.
“Could that happen with the wind?” I asked her suddenly.
“An archmage can become anything,” she replied, “It is both a blessing and a curse… a strength and a weakness.”
“I think it nearly happened to me the other day,” I added.
“I am not surprised,” she said.
“Why?”
“You are particularly sensitive, in my time you would have been guarded carefully by a meillte,” she said. The word meillte was familiar to me already, it being the Lycian word for ‘watcher’.
“What did these ‘meillte’ do?” I asked.
“Their job was to make sure an archmage did not go too far. Most of them were mages of limited ability. If the one they were watching became lost they could speak to them directly, mind to mind, to try and draw them
