Alastair Archibald - A mage in the making

Fishing a small piece of chalk from a pocket, Crohn wrote the words 'EDUCATION: drawing out' on the blackboard, underlining the phrase twice, his robes fluttering around him like birds' wings. Cowed by his commanding presence, the boys were transfixed by his earnest intensity; or so Crohn hoped.

"If you have no power, you will never be a mage, no matter how diligently you may study. If you have power and cannot, or will not, learn to direct it, you will never be a mage. If you fail to persevere, or do not heed what you are taught, you will never be a mage."

Crohn loved the rapt attention of the boys. There might be no love or admiration in their eyes, but he knew that he was where he had always been destined to be.

He cleared his throat. "Only if you have both power and control in full measure," he said, "and only if you exercise true diligence and industry in the understanding of your chosen craft, will you be acclaimed a master.

"I can put your minds at rest on one score: all of you have been accepted as Students only because you have been interviewed by a member of the Guild and are known to have some degree of magical power. Maybe two-thirds of this class will leave the Scholasticate with some small competence in the Art, but without being judged fit to wear the Guild Ring.

"Of the remaining ten boys, perhaps five will show the strength and determination to progress to eventual Acclamation. For every ten such dedicated Students, it is expected that seven will become either Readers or Scholars, the backbone of the Guild's magical capability.

"Out of sixty Students, it is expected that three-one-twentieth-will become what we call Specialists; true masters of the Craft of Thaumaturgy."

Crohn let this last sink in. Nobody was guaranteed mastery, whatever his inheritance or his breeding.

"Know and understand that I will be proud of each and every Student, no matter his achievements, should I know that he has worked to achieve his full potential. You will only learn to fulfil yourself if you dedicate yourselves to your studies. If you apply yourselves and master what you have as best you are able, I will be happy to acknowledge you as brothers."

Crohn scanned the group, but he was pleased to see no hint of mockery or dissension. "Until then, you are merely Students, here to learn what few inklings you may of an abstruse and arcane art.

"Whatever you have been taught until this point in time is irrelevant. Here begins your magical education. Attend well."

The Magemaster scanned the class with a slightly disapproving eye, as if expecting misbehaviour, but the Students were still displaying a reasonable amount of attention, so he continued.

"What, then, is magic? It is the controlled extension of one's will and power to effect a change in what is. In some measure, this is no different to the act of picking up a book."

To illustrate his concepts, Crohn picked a book from his table and held it aloft.

"Consider the actions that need to take place in order for me to do something as simple as lifting a book," he said, warming to his theme. "I see the object, I form the desire to lift it, and I direct my will to it. My will is conveyed to the object by my arm and my hand. These are given power from the air I breathe and the food I eat.

"I can lift the book only when all these factors are present. If I lift too strongly, the book flies into the air. If my grip is too tight, I crush it. If my grip is too weak, it slips through my fingers. My senses need to inform me of the success or failure of the action so that I can learn from the experience."

A boy at the back raised his hand and Crohn motioned him to speak. "Lord Mage, your will doesn't lift the object, does it? Your hand does."

Crohn suppressed a smile; he knew such a question would be raised at some point, and he was ready for it. "If I were to sever my hand and cast it from me, could it still lift? What does my hand know of the book? Without my will to direct it, it is no more than a piece of meat on a butcher's slab."

Perhaps encouraged by the other boy's bold example, a serious-looking charity Student at the back of the room and raised his hand, and Crohn acknowledged him with a nod. "Lord Mage," the boy said, "you said that it was important to see the object so you could lift it. But blind people can still lift things. I don't think I know what you mean."

"Indeed, I know several blind mages who are easily as powerful and skilful as I am, if not more so," the Magemaster replied. "As you will all soon appreciate, 'sight' is merely a metaphor for 'perception', acquisition of data by means of a physical sense. It is necessary to perceive an object in some sensory manner in order to interact with it in a controlled and meaningful way.

"Magic is the same, in all the important respects. The desired change must be perceived in terms of magic, the spell necessary to reflect the desired change must be held in the mind, and the magical power patterned by the spell must be sent forth to carry out the desired action. Is that clear?"

A chorus of "Yes, Lord Mage" arose from the room, and Crohn saw no dissenting faces. He knew that most of the boys still would not understand the full import of what he had said, but their mere acquiescence would be enough for now.

"We shall concentrate initially on what I have called 'sight', since this seems to confuse at least some of you if not, as I suspect, most of you. That is, 'how to see without eyes'. One cornerstone of the practice of magic is what we call 'Mage Sight'; the ability to perceive magic and magical items. One or two of you may already have a rudimentary form of this, in which case your task will be easier. Can any of you see the colours that pervade a human soul?"

Three hands were raised, and Crohn nodded to a serious-looking boy with dark eyes. "What is your name, boy?"

"Grimm Afelnor, Lord Mage." Crohn started briefly at the name and was about to comment on it, but he remembered the briefing given him by Urel; no member of his staff was to comment on the Afelnor boy's antecedents.

"Well, Afelnor," he said, "perhaps you would like to come here and tell the other Students of the phenomenon, and how it may be observed."

Looking nervous now at having been singled out for attention, Grimm rose to his feet and moved to stand beside Magemaster Crohn.

"Well, it's like you let everything go black and then the colours stand out," he began. "It's like when you let your eyes go blurry and little lights swell up big like sequins, but it's not really in your eyes except that's where you see it. I know how to do it, but I can't really say how. I guess it's a bit like swallowing. I've always known how to do it, but I can't explain it to anybody else."

Crohn was not quite convinced that Grimm understood the niceties of the Sight, although he had given a reasonable description of the phenomenon. Perhaps a practical demonstration might be necessary. "Afelnor, tell me about my colours, my aura."

Trembling just a little, Grimm faced the Magemaster and squinted. "There are the gold lines that I think mean you're a wizard… a mage, that is," he corrected himself. "They're neat and straight. There's some light green, which I think means you don't like to give up, and orange spots. I know they mean you can get a bit angry sometimes, but they're wrapped in clouds of blue, which is a nice, friendly colour."

Crohn was impressed; it seemed that the boy knew more than a little about the skill. He was about to dismiss the Student when Afelnor continued.

"Right now, you have a lot of grey," he said, still squinting, "which means you're worried, but it's got all bits of white in it, which I think means you're hiding it. And now there's some yellow, which means you're a bit embarrassed 'cause you didn't believe me when I said I could see your colours…"