had a good laugh after arriving at Grippo’s the previous night as they recalled their first fearful meeting, now seemingly so long ago.
Lord Lychenbarr began joining them for dinner in the small common room laid out for that purpose. The evenings became as much a time for learning as any daytime lecture. The pragmatic aspects of thaumaturgy just seemed to make more sense following a fine meal lubricated with even finer wine.
The months progressed rapidly. The winter was mild in spite of little assistance from the sun that seemed to labor every morn to rise above the frosted edge of the horizon. Tryllo Makshaw, though not at all insufficient in ability, decided to leave the Collegeum of Mauge. “We labor while the dying earth exults in its release. We should be exuberant in joined celebration while this glorious planet gives forth its fruits and wines, its nymphs frolic in unabashed nakedness and the songs of the dying earth still echo in our ears.”
Though Tryllo was missed, especially during their occasional sojourns to Grippo’s, the demands of Lord Lychenbarr were unceasing, leaving them little time to think on the matter. Dringo continued to excel, but he still worried that Lord Lychenbarr might renew his investigation into the lack of his enrollment documents. He took solace in that at least he was much better prepared to meet the unknown challenges once he resumed the search for his father.
Lord Lychenbarr never allowed the young magicians to progress beyond the use of madlings, a lesser and thus more controllable form of sandestin. To attempt encodement of the working instructions of a spell into the unpredictable mind of a higher entity had caused misadventure to many wizards. He pointedly emphasized caution every day the lessons entailed practical employment.
Disaster struck, as is usually the case in all things subject to the hubris of young men.
Cavour Senthgorr was attempting a derivation of the Spell of Hastening Profundity. Failure to recite the pervulsion correctly triggered a lesser entity to enlist the aid of a demon of known irritability and vengeful retribution.
The demon stood swathed in the gases and stenches of his subworld. He loomed above them turning his head back and forth with malevolent smaragdine-colored eyes. A ridged crest fanned the length of his back like the dorsal fin of a sea creature. Below a pouched gut that gave the appearance of a large, living meal just eaten, swayed a pendulous sex organ. It looked at Cavour and spoke: “Your beckoning is inconvenient. However, I subjugate my own desires to your will.” Its voice was surprisingly human-sounding and serene, made ghastly by his next words: “I will require an assistant.” He again looked around the room and returned his eyes on Cavour. “None of you will suffice. I will make a golem using the eyes of…” he looked at Gasterlo, “you.” He turned to Popo Killraye. “I will use your legs. They look sturdy enough. And I think…”
Cavour’s voice croaked as he yelled, “Halt! I discharge you from your task. You may return to your abode.”
The demon chortled. “One instruction at a time. Precedence requires me to forgo that option.” He turned back to his inspection of body parts with what may have been a grin splitting its maw.
Dringo looked over to Lord Lychenbarr who appeared deep in thought as he chuntered a spell in sotto voice. His brow was furrowed in worry. Dringo tried to deduce what type of spell Lord Lychenbarr would attempt: Probably the Agency of Far Dispatch. Whatever…it didn’t seem to be effective. What could fortify his spell?
On impulse he uttered Jonko’s Gentle Aswaggment of Imperious Desires.
With wonder and relief, they all looked at each other in silence. The creature had vanished.
Lord Lychenbarr, visibly shaken, said to Dringo, “Well done. What made you think that spell would work?”
“The demon seemed so obdurate in its intentions that it occurred to me that your spell couldn’t work without a mollifying additive. We’ve used Jonko’s Gentle Aswaggment to calm small forest animals before.” He shrugged and splayed out his arms. “It’s all I could contrive at the moment.”
Lord Lychenbarr approached Dringo and put a boney arm around his shoulders. It was the first physical contact any one of them had ever had with this enigmatic man. “I say again, well done. I would not have thought to co-join those spells. I can see now where the two used in conjunction could have many useful applications. I believe we shall have an extra ration of spirits with our dinner tonight. Certainly, I will.” He turned and departed the room.
Dringo could still feel lingering warmth on his shoulder.
Following dinner that evening Lord Lychenbarr asked Dringo to see him in his chambers. Dringo had no reason to be uneasy following an amiable meal where Lord Lychenbarr once more praised Dringo’s resourcefulness. That changed as he entered the chambers.
Lord Lychenbarr began sternly, “I have been instructed that without a sponsor you are to be dismissed.”
Dringo paled. “Surely, given some more time….”
Lord Lychenbarr’s raised a hand in a stopping motion. “You have done well here, Dringo; and I am not one who takes commands from my peers. His features softened and then a smile. “You have a sponsor, Dringo. I will be your benefactor.”
Lord Lychenbarr became cautionary at the Collegeum of Mauge. “I realize now that I have imposed too much of my own brashness in your tutorage. After that near disaster with the demon, we will again concentrate more on theory and put more emphasis on the usage of activans and potions. Even the dominant magicians of the Grand Motholam eventually undid themselves through impetuosity and lack of rigor.”
Powerful magicians began to visit the collegeum as rumor spread that Lychenbarr was developing potential rivals. Dringo thought them all uniformly haughty, boastful, arrogant, supercilious, and pompous. These powerful pandalects, without fail, immediately attempted to impose their own distorted imprimatur; and it was obvious to Dringo that Lord Lychenbarr realized that he had made a mistake in allowing such visits. None alarmed him more than when he announced that a communication arrived stating that Iucounu the Laughing Magician would honor the collegeum with an assessment.
Iucounu chose to use a whirlaway of grandiose design. Dringo and his fellow students watched from an upper window as the corpulent wizard bounded from the conveyance, crossed a short expanse of swaying grasses on his stubby legs and called into the manse commandingly, “It is Iucounu. Present yourself before my felicitous thoughts are overtaken by irritation and vex.”
A servant greeted Iucounu and led him inside and up the stairs to the audarium where they all awaited.
Lord Lychenbarr welcomed Iucounu. “Was your journey without trial?”
Iucounu, in his notably squeaky voice, giggled. “One minor annoyance that was quickly dispatched. Nothing of consequence to one such as myself.”
He wore an ill-fitting gown of pale gentian with maroon abstract designs. It did little to mask his rotundity. His large head rode above the silken mass like a boulder perpetually out of balance. “So these are the young mages I hear so much about,” he said, looking about the room. Suddenly, Iucounu screamed a high-pitched invective that tested the upper range of the audible spectrum. He held out an arm with his finger rigid in accusation.
“Cugel. It is you!”
Lord Lychenbarr followed the line of Iucounu’s venomous stare. He turned to him. “You are mistaken. This is Dringo.”
Iucounu squinted. He accessed a pair of gold-rimmed spectacles from some hidden reservoir of fabric and walked a few steps closer. “Ahh…. The resemblance is uncanny. The same slender stature. Hair the color of a crow’s wing. The visage of a fox.” Iucounu frowned but seemed to calm.
A stunned Dringo stepped forward. “Then you know my father?” he asked without guile or premonition. “My quest is to seek him out.”
Iucounu squealed, “Do I know your father? Do I know your father? A thief and a trickster. He irritates me worse than a canker on my scrotum.” He raised an arm and rushed forward as if to strike Dringo.
Lord Lychenbarr raced forward and placed himself between the two. “Stop, at once! Iucounu, I will not allow you to disrupt the harmony of this collegeum. Whatever your annoyance, Dringo has done you no mischief. He is —”
Iucounu chanted a spell of spatial transposition hurling Lord Lychenbarr across the room and against the wall with such force that stones loosened and fell, ribbons of dust drifted from the rafters covering Lord Lychenbarr who lay slumped on the floor.
Dringo rushed to his side.
