He sighed, his shoulders slumping. “What bothers me, my love, is that in doing what we have done, we have invalidated a perceived truth of magick. As we are taught now, to make you feel heat, I would have to touch your hand and invoke a spell.”
Gisella raised one of his hands to her lips. “You do not need magick to have that effect on me, beloved.”
Vlad looked down upon her face, both unable and unwilling to hide his smile. How he had been so fortunate to have her chosen for him by his aunt was completely beyond him. She had become his partner in every way, sharing some tasks equally, but willingly shouldering some burdens alone while he handled yet others by himself.
He had not, in fact, intended to tell her at all about his discovery concerning the Good Book, but he had read the concern on her face as easily as he could read Scripture. She knew he was worried and asked if she could help. He confided in her and instead of recoiling in terror, she had smiled eagerly. “My ability to use magick is tiny, but it is at your disposal, beloved.” And when he agreed to let her help him, he could scarce remember a time she had seemed so happy.
He nodded toward the wooden blocks with the firestones affixed to them. “I did what I could to eliminate some variables. The blocks and the brass fittings are all from different places and types of trees. The firestones are from the same lots and as close to a match in color, shape, and clarity as I could manage. Now it could be that the magick just passed through the air from one stone to the other, or through another channel, or that I directed it to the stone under your hand, since I knew what it looked like, without the stone under mine having anything to do with it.”
Gisella’s eyes narrowed. “We could blindfold you, too, and someone could mix up the blocks, so you only touch one. You’d not know what color firestone it was. I would still raise my hand. We’d need someone else to record the results. Caleb Frost, perhaps?”
“You’re right-blindfolding both of us would work. As for an aide… I dearly wish Owen was here, or Count von Metternin. I trust Caleb, but he is still young and enthusiastic.” Vlad frowned. “He might let things slip by accident. The fewer people who know, the better. If Bishop Bumble ever comes to suspect what we’ve learned, we’re undone. The same is true of Colonel Rathfield.”
“Do you truly think Colonel Rathfield was sent here to find Ezekiel Fire and destroy his settlement before he could share the secrets of the Good Book?”
Vlad slipped his hands from her and began to pace. “I’d not have thought so, save for Bishop Bumble wanting Fire returned here to stand trial for heresy. It also bothers me that papers which Bumble claims to have had destroyed have come into my possession anonymously. A second packet has been delivered, which confirms things in the first, and hints at Fire’s having taken things further. Someone knows things that Bumble does not, and wants them shared on a limited basis. Or do I imagine that the notes were sent to me so they could be found on me, setting me up for a trial on the same heresy charges? What we have just done here would make a prima facie case against us.”
“Will that concern stop you?”
“I would stop if you ask. For the sake of our children.”
“But not otherwise?”
“How can I, really?” Vlad looked at her directly. “What we have discovered here must already be known in Tharyngia. Owen described as much in terms of things du Malphias was able to do. This means that failure to pursue studies would put Mystria at risk.”
“Norisle, too.”
“Yes, of course. I meant Norisle and her colonies.” Didn’t I? “The risks here, at least in the eyes of those like Bishop Bumble, would be that all controls over magick would vanish. We would end up with those who are strong magically carving out their own little empires and lording their power over others. This has not happened in Tharyngia, however, and when you look at it, has not the Church set itself up as the same sort of tyranny through magick, albeit covertly?”
“We may believe the Church has, beloved, but what proof have we of it?” She turned in her chair and smoothed her skirts. “Do you see Bishop Bumble as some sorcerer?”
Vlad remembered back to Bumble and his hardships on the way to Anvil Lake. “No, but if he were indeed one, and had been tasked with watching over magick in Mystria, would he be effective if he could be easily spotted? Were Richard Ventnor sent on that sort of mission, he would be suspect immediately.”
Gisella shivered. “The idea that Duke Deathridge could wield powerful magicks frightens me.”
“Heavens, you are a genius!”
Her face brightened. “I am?”
“You are.”
“Tell me, beloved.”
Vlad smiled. “Just as the first spell we all learn is how to extinguish a fire, so perhaps there needs to be magick developed which can extinguish or diminish other magick. Of course, that would only work if we can determine the medium through which magick travels. If it would require matched items, as we used here, then it would be difficult to employ. If it can travel through air, or some other unseen medium, then it might be more effective.”
Gisella nodded. “Could it be that there is more than a single channel? Sound travels through air, and through water, but at different speeds, yes?”
“Excellent point. It could be that magick might travel faster or slower in some cases. It might be faster through linked items, and slower through air or water. And it might have range limitations based on the strength of the person using it.” Vlad returned to his desk and began jotting notes. “We will have to devise a series of experiments to determine what we can. But, first, there is an even more important bit of work I need to do.”
She smiled. “Yes, darling?”
“I need to create a spell which, to my knowledge, has never been created before. If I can do that, we open a world of possibilities, and will urgently need to explore them all.”
After lunch Vlad returned to his laboratory. From the woodpile outside it, he chose a small stick of oak roughly two inches in diameter. Using a saw he sliced off two disks, each roughly a half inch in width. He sanded them down until smooth, then, using a stencil, he decorated each side with identical images of a bell. He heated a small iron rod in his stove and then used it to burn the image into the wood.
He set the disks aside and pulled a small brass bell from an upper shelf, blowing the dust and cobwebs from it. He hung it from a small wooden stand and used a tiny hammer to ring it. The tone pealed crisply. Closing his eyes, he struck it repeatedly, forcing himself to remember the sound. He listened to it rise, then fade and echo back from the walls. He focused on how he could feel it reverberate in his chest, and then rested a finger lightly on the top so he could feel the vibrations in the bell itself. He weighed the bell in his hand, sniffed it, and even licked it, getting as much sensory information about it as he could. He pressed the cool metal to his neck, memorizing that sensation as well, then hung it on the stand again.
He took one of the disks and crossed to the table his wife had used in the morning. He set the disk down and then placed on top of it a teacup and saucer. From a pitcher he filled the cup to the very brim with water. Careful not to jostle the table and spill anything, he returned to his desk and laid his right hand on the other wooden disk.
As he had been instructed to do when learning how to light a candle, he closed his eyes and focused on how a bell looked and sounded and felt when it rang. He visualized the bell he’d been experimenting with, knowing he could shift to the image of a massive bell in a cathedral steeple if needed. For his experiment, however, he felt that the immediacy of experience with the smaller bell made it perfect for his purposes. In his mind he drew an image of a bright, sunny day, cool and crisp like the sound of the bell. He thought about how the word peal seemed so perfect to describe a bell’s sound.
He concentrated on that word, imbuing it with all the other sensations, and pushed magick into it. And then he shoved that magick through his hand and into the wooden disk.
Eight feet away, the teacup clattered in its saucer, and water spilled.
Vlad forced himself to measure the volume of water he had spilled, less because it was important, than it gave him sanctuary from considering what he had done. When he sat back down, the enormity of it hit him: he’d created a brand new spell where none had existed before. Even more amazing, it had not been that difficult. All he had done was to analyze one spell and how it had been taught to him, then he repeated that process with a parallel
