magick actually worked. It was the first time he'd ever seen anything about how magick worked. The High Mages didn't want to explain anything—at least to a lowly Student like Kellen—his studies consisted of endless drill, and he was supposed to take it on faith that someday the endless round of memorization would make sense.
Not like the Books of the Wild Magic. They actually told you things; how things worked, why they worked, why they didn't work. Even better, they had actual spells.
He'd discovered that the back half of The Book of Sun was mostly full of little cantrips and minor spells to make things happen—everything from lighting a candle to sending a one- or two-word message to scrying what was happening at a distance.
If these Books were intended to serve the same purpose for young Wildmages as his textbooks on High Magick, they were certainly a lot more straightforward—and you actually got to do something besides memorize!
'Kellen!' Anigrel said sharply. 'Your line is drifting to the right—I've told you over and over: you must keep your sigil centered directly in front of you! Now, again—retrace that Methra—'
Kellen sighed; he didn't think he was off-center. He began retracing the sigil.
Well, while it was true that you could start doing the Wild Magic immediately, there also seemed to be— ramifications. The spells in the three Books didn't seem all that different from the basic High Magick spells he'd been learning (if not actually using), but now that he'd finished the first Book he was starting to get an idea of why the Books were anathema to the High Mages. Wild Magic seemed to be utterly unpredictable.
And oh, how the High Mages hated the unpredictable! Absolutely hated it! As far as they were concerned, everything ought to be regulated, measured, moderated, and controlled, and Wild Magic just… wasn't. You could cast your spell, set the process in motion, and as far as Kellen could figure out, there was no telling just how your end would be accomplished, or even if it would be attained at all. That point was made over and over again in The Book of Moon. Spontaneity, variety, unpredictability, all linked into that most powerful of things, magick—the High Mages couldn't possibly do anything other than hate the Wild Magic, now, could they?
And despite the fact that you might not get what you wanted, that was part of what Kellen found so attractive about Wild Magic, just when he was the most unhappy with his life and the future his father had all planned out for him.
It was very strange, finding the Books in the Low Market like that, though perhaps it would be better to say that they found him. Perhaps that was just one more demonstration of how unpredictable Wild Magic was.
Perhaps he had been practicing Wild Magic even before he'd found the Books, even without knowing it, and because of that he had sensed the Books and been drawn to them just when he had been longing for the new and different, for excitement and change. Maybe his longing had become the instrument of Wild Magic…
Or Wild Magic had used him…
And that sudden thought made him just a bit uncomfortable.
'Xota. )ald. Eron. Batun,' Anigrel chanted, as Kellen traced sigil after sigil, each one more complicated than the last. The first set had only glowed with a single color; now that he was into the more advanced of the sigils, the lines that he drew in the air boasted three different—though always harmonious—colors, or three shades of the same color. And now the sigils themselves pointed out where he went wrong, for the colors would not be quite right if his tracing was off even a little. And if they were wrong altogether, well, he'd often get vile shades that set his teeth on edge.
I wonder what would happen to a color-blind Mage? Kellen thought suddenly. That would hardly be a problem for a Wildmage, now, would it?
Of course, there were other difficulties with Wild Magic…
His mind wandered again; there was something else that had occurred to him that made him more than a little uneasy about his three Books.
The Books, if they had not actively sought him out, had surely picked him—or something connected with them had. Probably they had sat in that merchant's stock for years, and before that, perhaps in some other merchant's stock or some forgotten library. So. What was it about him that had made them pick him? Whoever had copied out the three Books had set a spell on them to enable them to stay together as a set, and must have set a second to ensure that only someone who was 'right' for them would find them. The question in Kellen's mind was—just what was it about him that was 'right'?
Obviously the Books knew they had to go to someone who wouldn't automatically turn them over to the High Mages, which probably ought to bother him more than it did. And they had to go to someone who had the personal energy to be a Wildmage. But what else was involved? Was it only that the person had to be willing, even eager, to accept something that was different, someone who was tired of the endless sameness enforced by the Council? Or was there something more to it than that?
Was it a weakness in him? Something, as the Ars Perfidorum suggested, corruptible?
And of course, he had another worry altogether. Whether or not the Ars Perfidorum was correct about the Wild Magic being bad, there was still the law. The three Books were anathema; there was no arguing with that. At
