Enchanter (Book 7) (63 page)

“All right,” I sighed.  “It couldn’t hurt the pilgrimage business.  I’ll get Banamor to hack off some little parcel on the old commons, and we can start looking for priestesses.  Where is the nearest temple?”

“Over a hundred miles down the Bontal,” she admitted.  “But if you send an emissary, I’m sure you can recruit one, particularly if you grant a stipend for the shrine.  And once a priestess is here, she can dispense spiritual advice on the matter to the number of husbands and wives who were troubled by it You are right – such places are very popular on pilgrimage.  Those who come to see the Everfire will be happy to stop and tarry at it, just as they do at the temple of Huin.”

“I’m thinking it will be more popular by a great measure.  But send your emissary.  We might as well raise a shrine.  It
was
a pretty memorable night.”  Sister Bemia and blushed, nodding without further comment.  I wondered why she and Festaran could no longer look each other in the eye.  Now I suspected I knew.  If not Fes then someone else . . .

My meeting with the enchanters was more interesting to me professionally, not personally.  I spent an afternoon touring the Manufactory with Rael and Banamor, watching some of the hired enchanters creating mowing rods, threshing wands, and gleaning charms for the upcoming harvest, while others were building more complex enchantments for sale on commission.

“The orders have poured in for the agricultural enchantments,” Rael reported as we walked from worktable to worktable.  “We’ve moved over thirty lots out to spellmongers and court wizards around the Bontal, but we’ve even got some orders by Mirror coming in from as far as Remere and the Castali Wilderlands.  We’ve got a three-week backlog,” she boasted, pleased.  “Most of the stock we accumulated this winter is gone.  Over three hundred sets.  At around forty ounces of silver each.”

“That’s a lot of coin,” I nodded appreciably. 

“That’s nothing,” Banamor bragged.  “We’ve taken orders for wool carding and sheering enchantments at a hundred ounces each – over a dozen of each one.  That’s a very simple enchantment.”  He consulted a scroll he took from his belt and started counting our riches. 

“Since Yule we’ve moved over forty butter churns, nearly two hundred heatstones, sixty-three heating and freezing wands, past six hundred magelight wands, eighty-one wellstones, and twenty four warding beacons.  Our construction enchantments are moving more slowly, but the cost is higher.”  He rolled the scroll back up.  “We’ve made a gross profit of more than three thousand ounces a month, since Yule.  Ounces of
gold
,” he said, meaningfully.  “You add that to our mercantile interests in
lourdin
, sympathy stones, snowstone, and general magical supplies, and you’re making far more on this enterprise than you are on all of that silly agriculture. 
Combined.”

“That
doesn’t
mean we should shift enchanters away from agriculture,” Rael insisted, hands on her hips.  “Those wands are needed out there!”

“I agree,” I nodded.  “My entire purpose here wasn’t to make as much money as I could.  It was to make people’s lives better.  The profit we make from the more expensive items can cover the effort we make on the agricultural enchantments. Which are, you have to admit, not unprofitable,” I pointed out.

“Bah!  But hardly worth the effort.  Minalan, if we could put another witchstone in play here, and hire another shift of enchanters, we could start working on the really sophisticated things – like that medical baculus we were discussing, or the next generation of Mirrors.”

“Do it,” I decided.  “I’ll have another witchstone prepared.  You start interviewing candidates.  And consider what you can do for apprentices – there must be ways you can speed up work by having less-experienced magi do preparation work.”

“That’s actually a good idea,” Rael admitted.  “Right now they’re spending about a third of the time preparing the wands, and another third of the time making them meable,” she said, describing the complicated process that allowed magical items to be used by folk with not Talent of their own.  It added significantly to the time and energy needed in the process of the spell.  “If we had a few assistants to do some of the easier rote work of metuitals like benefication and mensuration, the enchanters could focus on the actual enchantment.”

“I like it,” Banamor agreed.  “There are enough stray magi of lesser power around to support it – even a few talented sports we might be able to use.”

“Before you set them to working on more butter churns,” I suggested, “have them do a trial run of fifty more Sentry Wands as a trial.  With what Lorcus is doing in Rolone, I think he’s going to need them soon.”

Chapter Twenty-Nine

A Quick Trip To Wilderhall

“It’s a medical baculus . . . called a
cummock
, in the ancient texts,” Master Ulin explained, in my workshop.  He had three books opened on the table and had spread out a three-foot long scroll with a detailed diagram of his proposal. 

It featured a short staff of elegant design: the wood at the slender head of it was curved back on itself in almost a perfect circle six inches across, nearly touching the base. “Its distinctive hook, similar to a shepherd’s crook, acts as a field of view through which the mage may examine the patient, usually through a lens of thaumaturgical glass.  It’s considered a tool of great diagnostic value, according to the ancient Perwyneese.  In the Middle Magocracy no respectable healer would come to your bedside without a cummock, whether it was arcanely active or no.”

“And you want to build one of these things?” I asked, curious and intrigued.

“Well, yes . . . but not with the limitations of the old style,” he admitted, stroking his beard.  “While useful, I think with what we’ve learned about enchantment in the last year we can vastly improve its effectiveness.  The originals were used as diagnostic tools, but with snowstone and advanced enchantments we can add a lot of active augmentations: spells to protect against shock, to stop bleeding, to lower fever, to ease discomfort, to relieve pain . . . the possibilities are endless!”

“How would you capture such enchantments? Weirwood?”

“Weirwood would be best, especially the brindle varieties; but originally only naturally curved weirwood was considered adequate for such devices.”

“That must be pretty rare,” I agreed.  Weirwood tended to grow straight, like bamboo or rattan. 

“Yes, but I think the concern was misplaced,” Ulin explained, tapping his finger on a reference.  “From what I can understand, though the natural curve was preferred, there are several accounts of magi bending the wood, or even using artificial means of providing the lens space.”

“So you think you can bend it?”

“Oh, my, yes,” he agreed.  “I’ve been speaking to Master Olmeg, Master Minnick, and all manner of carpenters while doing research for the project.  The magi assure me that weirwood could be trained to this shape while still growing, and the carpenters explained a secret of their craft employed in temples and grand chambers and halls.  Steaming the wood, and bending it while it is super-saturated with water.”

“That works?” I asked.  We employed similar thermomantic spells to cure wood before splitting it.  Steaming would be similarly simple.

“Indeed.  Goodman Baris, the carpenter, demonstrated the technique.  It is favored by luthiers and other makers of musical instruments, using thin slices of wood.  I think using the technique to bend weirwood into the cummock form could be quite effective.”

“And what about the lens space?”

“Ah! That is the best part,” he smiled.  “Using a lens of high-grade thaumaturgical glass, with an outer ring of snowsand glass, would be quite adequate to absorb the necessary diagnostic enchantments and have other useful, more active functions.  I suggest a slate of common medical spells, to be determined by the Order of Mandros- Master Icorod will no doubt have a goodly list of requested spells.”

“Oh, he would dance a jig to get his hands on such a powerful tool.  In fact, presenting him with a prototype would be an excellent event at this year’s Conclave.  How quickly can you get one made?”

He stroked his beard.  “A prototype?  Not long, to prepare the weirwood.  The glass will take longer, unless I can persuade the priestesses at the temple to allow me to use the Everfire . . .”

“Consider them persuaded.  Can it be made meable?” I asked, curious.

“Well, many of the basic enchantments,” he decided, after a few moment’s pondering.  “I could design a lesser model that would be useful, say, in a trauma situation.  On the battlefield, for instance, something a monk could use to save a man’s life.  Conversely, I could design a lesser cummock specifically for comforting a patient during recuperation, or from an illness.  That, too, could be meable.”

“That could be quite important, Ulin,” I agreed.  “What about nursing or midwifery?”

“Oh, specialized enchantments suited to care and comfort or obstetrics would be simple variations, with the help of a Talented medic.  Nor would they take much longer for our diergents to fashion.  Once I constructed prototypes and provided their testamure, each would likely take a week of a dedicated ordinant’s time to construct and desenit.  Less, if sufficient materials are available to speed the process.  The cost would be three or four hundred ounces of silver, I think.  More, if you charge by the enchantment.”

“Prepare Master Icorod’s cummock with as many spells as you can imagine he will need.  As he is the head of the order, he should have the very best.  Indeed, he will insist upon it. 

“But build a second one, nearly as well-equipped, for our friend Lelwen of Tiers, in Megelin.  Emphasize battlefield enchantments.  But build the general nursing, midwifery and trauma prototypes as well.  Can you accomplish that before midsummer?”

“With sufficient coin and resources, Magelord,” he nodded.  “I’ll have to bring on a few more specialists.  But aye, I can make them by then.”

“Good.  When we’ve refined the art, we can start producing them for distribution to the clerical orders who specialize in medicine.  I could use such cummucks to bribe the Temple of Trygg, for instance.  It’s always good to have the Allmother on your side.”

“And trauma staves for the Warbrothers of Duin,” he agreed, realizing the political advantages of such gifts immediately.  “And palliative cummucks for the Silent Sisters.”

We both stared at the drawing for a few moments in silence.  I thought of my own baculus, and how useful it was . . . particularly since it had been imbued with an enneagram.

“I wonder . . . could a cummock be more useful if it had an awareness that controlled it?  A paracete that could work just the right enchantments, after assessing and diagnosing the patient, to effect healing?”

He looked startled.  “I know not, Magelord, but it is a
fascinating
question.  I suppose it would depend largely upon the paraclete in question . . . and the enchantments available to it.  I confess I am only beginning to learn such deep enneagrammatic enchantments, since I came to Sevendor.”

That got me thinking.  “I think I know who might know the answer.  And I think it’s time that we explored the extent of his Talent.”

*

*

That evening I summoned young Ruderal from Boval Hall to my tower, where Dara was waiting for him.  She was near exhausted with hatching and training, and had leapt at the chance to get away from the Mews and do some real magic for a change.  She also wanted to get to know her new junior apprentice.

Ruderal seemed a bit anxious, at first, but we soon put him at ease.  I explained to him what I wanted him to do.

“Tell me, Ruderal, when you use your Talent, what do you see in this?” I asked, holding out the Grain of Pors.

His eyes got large, and he looked away for a moment, before swallowing and turning back toward me. 

“It’s . . . it’s like a whole sky full of stars crammed into a single tiny window,” he decided.  His breathing had changed.

“This is a piece of a magical substance called Ghost Rock,” I explained.  “Its special property is that it can record enneagrams – the patterns you see so clearly – within its depths.  These enneagrams can be transferred, copied like you copy your letters, from this rock and imbued into an object by a skilled enchanter.  You’ve seen some of the objects we’ve enchanted thus,” I said, receiving a solemn nod in return.

“Well, I would like to see if you have the capacity to traverse its depths, and perhaps interpret the enneagrams trapped within more clearly than I.  You see, most of the patterns inside are of undersea creatures from ages past who encountered the rock long ago.  There are thousands within,” I assured him.  He looked impressed.

“How do I do it?” he asked, both anxious and intrigued by the prospect.

“It’s perfectly safe,” I promised him.  “I’ve done it myself dozens of times, now, with no ill effect.  It’s really quite easy.  You hold it in your hand, and allow your consciousness to leak into it, until you feel as if you’re sinking into a big pool of mud.”  He smirked at that.  No eleven year old boy on Callidore could dislike that prospect. “As you sink, you will encounter various enneagrams, the most recent ones absorbed by the Grain first.  Keep going within,” I advised.  “The deeper you go, the older creatures you’ll encounter.”