Steven Brust - Issola

“Tell me about this rock,” said Aliera.

“All right,” I said. I walked over and stood in front of it. “The edges are all jagged. It looks like a large piece of something that was once even larger, if that gives you any idea. I told you about the colors, but there’s also a very thin sort of purplish vein running along one side.”

Aliera said, “Does it seem at all crystalline?”

“No, not... well, yes, I guess sort of, if you look at it right.”

Morrolan nodded. “Well, Aliera?”

She nodded and said, “Trellanstone.”

Morrolan nodded.

I said, “If you don’t mind—”

“Trellanstone,” said Aliera, “is what the Imperial Orb was fashioned from.”

“Oh,” I said. “Well. And here I thought it might be some­thing interesting.”

About then I caught something in Aliera’s eyes, and then in Morrolan’s, and realized that they were both a lot more ex­cited about this than they were willing to let on.

“I don’t suppose,” I said, “that either of you have studied Orb-making? I can see where having an Orb might be useful right around now.”

“Certainly,” said Aliera. “Then all we’d need would be a source of amorphia.”

“Oh, we have that,” I said, enjoying dropping it into the middle of the conversation, like, “Oh, the Easterner? Yes, he’s the Empress’s consort.”

I certainly got Morrolan and Aliera’s attention quickly enough. “What are you talking about?” said Morrolan.

“Lady Teldra and I went for a walk while we were waiting for you. It’s a lovely place, really, except for the air and how heavy you feel. There is a river of amorphia just outside of that door.”

They both glanced over at Teldra. You could see them thinking, “That’s it. Poor Vlad’s mind has snapped at last.” But Teldra nodded and said, “He is quite correct.”

“A river of amorphia,” repeated Morrolan, almost reverently.

“Impossible,” said Aliera. She turned to Morrolan. “Isn’t it?”

He shook his head. “I can’t imagine how such a thing could be. We need to look at this.”

“Yes,” said Aliera.

“I’ll wait here,” I told him. “If the Jenoine emerge, shall I ask them to wait, or suggest they return when it is more con­venient?”

Aliera snorted. There was a lot of that going around. Having made her statement, she turned and headed toward where I told her the door was, stopped, and turned back.

“Where is the bloody door?” she said.

I managed not to chuckle, started to answer, but Morrolan said, “One thing at a time, please. I, too, wish to observe this thing, but I wish first to address the issue of why Vlad can see what we cannot, and what, if anything, we can do about it.”

I could see that Aliera wanted to argue with him, but ap­parently couldn’t find any good pretext, so she clamped her jaw shut, and returned. I found I was enjoying this: two sorcerers, who had to be dying to investigate one of the most remarkable discoveries in the history of magical philosophy, and they were just going to have to wait.

To add some more confusion into the mix, I said, “Excuse me. This rock-that-turns-into-Orbs. Would you mind telling me about it?”

“It’s magical,” said Aliera dryly.

I glanced over at Teldra, but she was just standing, near the wall, the epitome of patience. I turned back to Aliera and said, “Thanks loads.” She started to speak, but I cut her off. “Look, there’s too much I don’t understand here, and neither do you. If we’re going to work this together, I’d like to have some idea of what this stuff is we’re talking about. We’re paralyzed until we have at least a reasonable guess about what is real and what isn’t.”

“I have never,” said Aliera, “had any particular problem knowing what is real.”

“Oh, no? Think about it. Morrolan is right. Why do I see what you don’t? Whose mind has been tampered with? What is the illusion? And, more important, why? That’s the part that really bothers me. I can understand casting an illusion in front of all our eyes, but why then remove it from one of us, or some of us, whichever it is?”

Aliera frowned. “All right,” she said. “Granted. I don’t know.”

Morrolan cleared his throat. “It is possible,” he said, “that removing the illusion was an error. We still don’t know exactly what happened while you were gone. Did you, for example, use your chain?”

I was suddenly very aware of Spellbreaker, wrapped around my wrist. “Yes,” I told him. “As it happens, I did. At least, in my mind. I thought about it. Could just invoking Spellbreaker in my mind have broken the illusion?”

“Perhaps,” said Morrolan.

“Perhaps,” I agreed. “Then again, perhaps not? How can we tell?”

“Let me think about that,” he said.

“Okay,” I agreed. “While you’re thinking, could you fill me in a little?”

“On what?”

“For starters, just what is that rock?”

“Well,” said Morrolan, “you know, basically, how sorcery works, right?”

“I know how to do the simple stuff, if that’s what you mean.”

“No, I’m talking about how it works. The theory.”

“Oh. No, I’m proud to say I haven’t a clue.”

“Oh,” said Morrolan, with a look that indicated he was sud­denly stumped. I took a perverse pride in that. I guess I was in a mood.

Aliera came to his rescue. “The basic idea,” she said, “is simple enough: Everything is made of matter, or energy, which is the same thing in a less organized form. Amorphia is the opposite of matter. The purple vein in that rock is necrophia. Necrophia is a substance which can control amorphia, and which responds to the human—or Eastern—brain. Sorcery is the art of learning to manipulate necrophia, as Elder Sorcery is the art of learning to manipulate amorphia.”

She stopped, as if she were done. Heh. I said, “And necromancy?”

“The art of using necrophia, and amorphia, to control the energy levels of different life-states.”

Oh, well, now I understood everything. Heh. I said, “And witchcraft?”

She looked at me, blinked, then turned to Morrolan.

“Witchcraft,” he explained, “is something else again.”

“Ah,” I said. “Well, good. That helps.” Before they could respond, I remarked, “I’ve never heard of necrophia before.”

“Your education,” said Aliera, “is sadly lacking.”

Morrolan said, “Witchcraft is a process of understanding and changing—the more you understand a thing, the more you can change it, and the more you work to change it, the more deeply you understand it. Sorcery is a process of correspondence—the minute amounts of energy generated by the mind must be made to correspond to the Orb, which in turn permits the release of the energy contained in the Sea of Amorphia, and this energy thus becomes available to use to manipulate the world.”

“You should have been a teacher.”

He ignored me. “That rock you describe contains an ore that has the property of resonating with amorphia, and with our minds; that is why the Orb was constructed from it.”

“All right, I can see that. Mmmm. I imagine it is rare?”

“It only appears as a gift from the gods.”

“Okay, that would be rare. Is it sentient?”

“How could it be sentient?”

“You’re right,” I said. “Stupid question.” I don’t know if he caught the irony, but I’m fairly sure Aliera did; she smirked. I continued, “All right, I think I see a bit of how the parts fit together. Now: Why would the jenoine put us in a room with this in it?”

He didn’t have an answer for that one. Morrolan has always been better at understanding how objects work than how other beings are thinking.