Chapter 16

VERMOUTH


Vermouth was a different kind of city. They smelled it long before it came into view one afternoon. It was not a stench of sewage, but the smell of decaying vegetation and salt water marshes. Keron, the only other coastal city that Dylan had seen was a rocky place with a very small harbor nestled in the sound of the Caleko River.

They sailed up a channel where the Khotain River emptied into a large sound. The city was actually a bit up river, away from the marshes. Vermouth was something of a frontier city. There was no wall or barrier, but a simple guard posted on the docks who asked a few simple questions about where visitors had come from. There was the inevitable coinage that was passed from the captain to the guard, and then they were allowed to pass.

Coran squared their account with the captain and crew of the Caroli III and they retrieved their luggage at the gangway when the crew brought their bags down. Crystal announced that the first order of business was to acquire temporary lodging so that they could get a good night’s sleep in a stable bed and a hot meal that was a little less salted.

Gage admitted that he too felt like a good solid mattress would do his back some good, and endorsed Crystal’s recommendation. He and Coran managed to get some directions from a dock merchant and they made their way through the town towards the inland perimeter. There, they had been told, they would find the better lodgings.

Dylan noted from what he could see as they walked through the city streets that Vermouth was heavily into the furs trapping and lumber businesses. In addition to the stores and shops that were common to almost any city, there were a great number of smithies that specialized in traps, saws and axes.

The local people seemed to be unusually friendly and waved to them as they passed as if they were old comrades or family. When they arrived at the inn they had been referred to, the Black Bear, a smartly dressed gentleman was standing outside and greeted them handsomely.

He welcomed them and offered to take their luggage. Rathe and Coran were a bit reluctant to give up their belongings, but Gage assured them that it was normal practice in a higher class establishment. “You two are too cheap to stay at a nice place, so you have never seen this before.”

Crystal came to Coran and Rathe’s defense playfully poking at the young mage. “Well they don’t have the guild footing their bills,” she pointed out. “If you had to pay out of your own pocket, I wonder how many establishments like this you’d be sleeping in?”
Gage returned a hurt expression, but let the matter drop. He did, however surrender his own bags for the most part. He kept his shoulder bag, the one that held his spell book and components. That, he would surrender to no one.

After booking their lodging, Gage and Coran joined the others in the tavern. Although it was still daylight outside, they decided to have an early supper. Then, there was some minor shopping for supplies that needed to be done.

“So where do we go from here?” Rathe asked.

“I am not too sure,” Gage answered. “Up until now we have just concentrated on getting here. All the evidence pointed to the undead problem originating in this area.”

“I guess we’ll just have to do a bit of investigating,” Coran added. “The earliest reports came from this area. I think I’ll drop in at the city militia district and see what kind of scuttlebutt I can find.”

“I will go back by the guild tomorrow and try to see what I can find out,” Gage added.

“What are your plans, Crystal?”

“I’ll visit the temple,” she told them. “My father asked me to convey his greetings and blessings. Maybe they can help out. It wouldn’t hurt to ask.”

“I’ll guard the tavern,” Rathe sighed. “I wouldn’t want it to get away from us.”

Coran laughed. “Who could argue with that kind of self sacrifice?”

“And what about you, Velar?” Gage asked.

“I shall appraise this fine city,” Velar answered. “It may be that I, left to my own devices, can gleam some obscure tidbit of vital information that, when added to the fruits of everyone else’s labors, will help to give us a better reckoning of what we need to do.”

They all just stared at Velar for a long moment. Then Rathe started chuckling. “Man, I just love the way he talks.”

“The dialect sounds familiar,” Gage muttered, “but I can not quite place it.”

Coran interrupted quickly. “Stop worrying about simple matters and let’s try to take care of the business we came down here to attend to.” His voice was quite firm. “We don’t make fun of the way you talk, brother mine.”

Gage frowned. “No offense was intended. And what is wrong with the way I talk?”

“Nothing,” Coran pointed out. “You’re just like all elves. You never use contractions. It isn’t wrong, it’s just different. But we don’t make an issue of it.”

“Please,” Velar interrupted the brewing argument. “Take not foul words against each other. No offense was intended, and none is taken. Let the matter drop, and let us not revisit it.”

“Good enough for me,” Coran lifted his cup and downed a swill of cool ale. “What’re we going to do with the kids,” he asked. He winked at Dylan and flashed a heart stopping smile at Cindy.

“They can stay here with Rathe,” Gage suggested. “It will give Dylan a chance to catch up on his studies. I have an exercise for him that will take a day or two, I suspect. He can work on that.”

“I need to take Cindy with me,” Crystal announced. “We need to stop and visit a few suppliers and customers.”

“It would appear that everyone has a plan for tomorrow then,” Rathe concluded. “So what about tonight?”

“Eat and relax,” Crystal decided. “My stomach hasn’t been very happy since we put to sea. It’ll be nice to have a good meal without having to worry if it’ll stay down.”

“Hear, hear,” Coran added. He raised his hand and waved for the attention of the server. A young man came over and they asked for a portion of the evening meal. They were promptly brought a large pot with a large roasted bird steeping in a thick, hot gravy. The smell set all their mouths to watering. All, that is, except for Rathe, who like most of his race was a vegetarian. But for him there was a dish of raisins and nuts that he found to be quite tasty.

After they finished the meal. Crystal and Cindy retired. The two young women had been without a bath for days and had expressed a desire to submerge themselves in hot water for a few hours.

Gage too announced that he was going up to his room. He mentioned that he wanted to do some reading on the area that they were in and some research on the creation and programming of undead creatures. Dylan was about to follow his master when Coran urged the boy to remain with them.

“You need some privacy,” he told his brother, “and the boy needs to let himself enjoy the night for a change.

Gage frowned briefly, but relented. “Stay and listen to the music if you want,” he told his apprentice. “But remember I have a lesson for you tomorrow. Do not stay up too late.”

Dylan eagerly pulled up a stool and sat next to Rathe. Across from him was Velar and Coran. In the center of the room a minstrel was softly playing a common tune that barely rose above the sound of clattering cups and plates as the evening mealtime drew in more and more patrons.

“I think I pulled a muscle in that fight with those pirates,” Rathe groaned and put a hand to his neck.”

Coran raised a hand and got a server’s attention. “Some medicinal brew for my large friend,” he ordered.

“’Medicinal brew’?” Dylan asked.

“Ale,” Rathe answered. “We don’t drink just to drink. There must always be a reason.”
“We drank to wash down the meal,” Coran instructed. “But now that the meal is over, Rathe will drink to dull the pain of his sore muscle.”

Dylan nodded. “And will you have sore muscles too?”

“Now that you mention it,” Coran rubbed his shoulder. “I do feel a little stiff.”

“Let me get you a cup,” Dylan offered, feeling helpful. “Master Gage gives me a small allowance, but I rarely have need to use it since he pays for all my expenses anyway.”

“Why that’s right nice of you,” Coran praised. “I’d be honored if you would buy me a drink. I must admit, that in a round about way, it’s really Gage who’s buying, and that thought appeals to me quite a bit.”

Dylan grinned and got up to fetch the drink. “Would you like one too?” he asked Velar.
“For certain,” Velar decided after a short pause. “I shall also sample the flavor of the hopps.”

“What a thoughtful boy,” Rathe commented when Dylan had left.

“As I understand it,” Coran added, “he was raised in the Teverak region, on one of those large plantations. They use a small scale communistic social structure. Everyone contributes and everyone shares to make the plantation successful. On a small scale, it seems to work out quite well. I suppose in that kind of environment, good manners and kindness is quite common.”

“The boy will make a good comrade,” Velar agreed.

“If he survives the upcoming trial, that is,” Coran added.

“Trial?” Rathe asked.

“Cindy,” Coran explained. “That little minx has plans for Dylan, if you haven’t noticed. That poor boy hasn’t got a clue as to what’s coming.”

“I haven’t noticed,” Rathe admitted. “But then again, I haven’t been watching.”

“The sweetness of the maiden is quite plain in her eyes,” Velar declared. “She seeks valiantly for any cause to touch his hand or stand at his side.”

“She’s a devious little devil,” Coran praised approvingly. “It makes me wish I was a few years younger.”

“More than just a few, I’d say,” Rathe jibed. “You’re almost old enough to be her father.”

Coran waved a hand dismissing the point and grinned as Dylan approached with four cups. He passed one each to Coran and Velar. “Here is the cup that you had ordered for Rathe too,” he said as he passed Rathe the third cup.

“Hmmm,” Coran mused idly. “I can count pretty good,” he bragged jovially, “and it seems that we have more than three cups here.”

“Well,” Dylan tried to explain as he set the last cup in front of his seat. “I thought about what you had all said. I didn’t want to seem prudish, and I didn’t want for anyone to see the three of you drinking and assume that you were poor hosts, so I thought that I had better get a drink to protect your image.”

“An excellent excuse,” Rathe approved. “The boy has potential.”

“I just hope that Gage doesn’t turn him into a boring drag of a wizard,” Coran warned.

“Or a sorcerer or elementalist,” Rathe added.

“Pray, what form of magic will you endeavor to master,” Velar asked Dylan. The man who was secretly a dragon swirled his drink, but as yet, Dylan had never seen him take a drink.
“I really haven’t decided what stagic to mudy.” He burped and looked embarrassed. “I mean what magic to study,” Dylan answered. He frowned and looked at his empty cup.

“Those cups empty awfully quickly, don’t they,” Rathe observed. He poured half the contents of his own cup into Dylan’s. Then he signaled a server for another round.
“I’m not really sure that you’re cut out for sorcery,” Coran advised. “Maybe you’d better stick to wizardry.”

“Whaddaya mean? Why don’t you think I could be a sorcerer?” Dylan could not help be a little insulted.

“You just don’t have the personality,” Coran told him. “Don’t let it get you down. Even my father couldn’t be a good sorcerer.”

“The Forester couldn’t be a sorcerer?” Dylan asked.

“Well, he could try to be one, but he wouldn’t be a good one. Neither would Ultrecht.”

“So what would I need to be a sorcerer?” Dylan asked.

“You can be a sorcerer as easily as anyone, but to be a good sorcerer, you need something else. It’s something that Uncle Ultrecht and my father say about sorcerers. They tease Uncle Armegon about it quite a bit.”

“Oh, you mean that bit about the bad temper and short fuse?” Dylan asked again.

“Oh, you’ve heard it?” Rathe laughed.

“I think so,” Dylan answered. He remembered hearing it, but he could not recall where it had been.

“Whoa!” Rathe called as he caught the youth listing strongly to one side. “I think you’ve had quite enough for tonight,” the Minotaan decided. “Maybe you should get a little water to drink next.”

Dylan yawned. For some reason he felt extremely tired. “No,” he decided, “I think I’ll go to bed.”

“I’d advise against that,” Coran cautioned.

“But I’m so tired,” Dylan insisted.

“Okay then,” his master’s brother relented. “But remember that you were warned.”

Dylan remembered. He didn’t remember much else the next morning, but he definitely remembered being advised to stay up and drink water before going to bed.

Gage, took in his student’s state the next morning with one whiff of the young man’s breath. “It would seem that you will be learning more than one lesson this morning,” he noted. “Still, I can not help to think that Coran and Rathe might have taken a few measures to discourage this. I think I might have to speak to them about it.” He sighed with a slight frown. “And I am a little disappointed that you seem to have forgotten what happened the last time you stayed up drinking with Coran.”

Dylan did not really hear the comment. He was too busy trying to die. His head must have been at least the size of a pumpkin, and he felt as if someone were cutting it open to clean out its innards. How was he supposed to study in such a condition?

Gage brought a pitcher of water and a glass from downstairs. Dylan had not even noticed that he had left the room. “Drink this,” the mage ordered as he poured a glass.

Dylan took the glass and sipped it. At least it was cool, and after a few moments he finally managed to get the contents into his throat. His stomach rebelled and threatened to return the favor at any moment.

“All of it,” Gage ordered, pointing at the pitcher. “It will help. Trust me.”

“Only if I stick my head inside and drown,” Dylan answered.

For a brief moment, Gage almost laughed, but he quickly regained his composure. “Drink all the water, then start your lessons. I have outlined what I want you to do in this letter,” Gage indicated a piece of paper on the table. “See to it that you are done when I return.”

Dylan did as he was told. The lesson was tedious and he struggled to maintain his concentration. He worked all morning, and finally finished the assignment. It occurred to him that he was very hungry, for he had skipped breakfast. He put his things away and left the room intent on going down the tavern to get something to eat. He stopped, however when he was passing the room that Cindy and Crystal shared. He could hear the two women talking within and he politely knocked on the door.

When Cindy answered the knock, Dylan stepped in and invited them to join him for lunch. Crystal looked thoughtfully at a collection of small bags and containers. Satisfied that the work could wait until after lunch, she agreed and joined Dylan and Cindy as they went down to the common room of the tavern.

The three of them ate in the quiet tavern. The main lunch hour was only just beginning and at the moment there were not very many patrons. A table of three men sat a little way across the room, and a lone individual sat next to the fireplace. The day was a bit cool and a small fire had been burning all morning. It was a sure sign that winter was not far away.

Crystal and Cindy talked absently about their morning’s work. They had visited several apothecaries and procured a few regional items that would be a more difficult to get in the northern cities. “If you were to buy enough of this stuff here at local prices, you could sell it for enough in Keron or Seron to make a meager living,” she said.

Dylan sighed as he finished his food. It was not that he found Cindy’s new profession boring or anything, but he was still felt a bit tender from his previous night’s activities. He left a coin by his dish and announced that he needed some air, and left the ladies to talk among themselves.

Outside the day was humid and overcast. There was a sense of oncoming chill in the breeze, even though it was not cold. Dylan turned from the door and wandered slowly down the street. He occasionally peered though a window or appraised a street vendor’s wares. No one paid him any more mind other than to decide if he was interested in making a purchase.

“Would you like to buy a charm?” a ragged old woman asked him as he almost walked over her. She had been sitting on the ground and his attention had been elsewhere. She held out a small bowl that contained a few coppers. She was obviously a beggar.

Dylan dug into his shoulder bag for a coin to give her, and pulled a silver piece out. He did not want to seem stingy, so instead of putting the silver piece back and trying to find copper, he instead put the silver piece in the old woman’s bowl. After all, it was only a piece of silver and was hardly a fraction of what Gage gave him for an allowance each week.

Dylan was about to move on when the old woman grabbed him by the wrist and thanked him with as much honesty as she could muster. “Here,” she told him as she pressed a small item into his hand. “It will keep the devils away.”

He nodded his thanks and absently put the item in his shoulder bag next to his spell book and purse. He did not really want it, but it was easier to get away by simply taking the object and leaving that to argue about it.

Dylan passed by several shops before stopping at the door of a woodcarver’s business. He turned and walked in more out of curiosity than anything else. Inside the store were an assortment of wooden handles, and tools. Everything from axe handles to wooden forks occupied one wall, and on a set of shelves were displayed delicate carvings and idols. Some were so intricately etched, that the maker must have taken months to complete each one.

“Can I help you?” a merchant inquired as he came through a curtain into the main part of the store.

“Maybe,” Dylan muttered as he closely examined a small figurine of a wolf. “I was thinking of a gift for my little sister. She has a thing for dogs.”

“That little item is quite popular. If you want, I can even carve your sister’s name on it.”

“How much would it cost?” he asked.

“The figure’s ten coppers, and the extra carving would be an additional copper for each letter. What’s your sister’s name?”

“Mari,” Dylan answered.

“That won’t be very expensive,” the merchant assured him. “I’ll tell you what. For one and a half silvers, I’ll give you the figure, carve the name, and wrap it up nice and pretty.”

Dylan thought about it for a few seconds. “How long will it take?” he asked. “I won’t be in town long.”

“I can do it while you wait if you want,” the merchant told him. “My apprentice has been a bit too idle today. I’ll put him to it immediately and he’ll be done in just a few moments.”

“That’s great,” Dylan decided. “I’ll take it.”

The merchant rang a small bell and when an older, stout boy came to the curtain, the merchant took the figurine and handed it to the boy. He instructed his apprentice to carve the name of Dylan’s sister on the underside of the figure, and then urged him to finish quickly.

“Are you from the Teverak area?” the shopkeeper asked after the apprentice went into the back room.

Dylan was a bit startled, but smiled politely. “What makes you think that?”

“Your sister’s name, Mari, is most common in that region. We don’t have a lot of women with that name here in these parts, and I haven’t heard that it’s very popular in the north either.”

“I hadn’t noticed,” Dylan admitted. “But you’re right. I was raised at the Sandy Cove plantation.”

“Ah, a plantationer,” he crooned. “That explains the good manners.”

“I suppose. I’m sure that my master had something to do with that too,” Dylan laughed. He browsed causally about the shop and the owner set about dusting and taking care of minor chores.

After about half an hour, the young apprentice returned to the front of the store and presented his work to his master. The man looked at it critically and then nodded in satisfaction. He lay the figure on the counter for Dylan’s inspection. “One and half silvers,” he reminded.

Dylan fumbled in his purse for the coins. He grabbed a handful and drew them out. He counted the money out on the counter top.

“How long have you been here?” the store owner asked him curiously.

“A couple of days,” Dylan answered. “We sailed in from Keron earlier in the week.”
The man reached out and picked up the little charm that the beggar had given him.

“That’s a devil charm,” he showed Dylan. “It’s carried by Chira to protect them from unwanted spirits. I don’t think it really works, but the Chira have some strange ways about them.”

“Who are the Chira?” Dylan asked, interested.

“They’re a people who live a hundred or so leagues inland mostly. They travel a little bit so we see them here and there. They all carry one of these. They’re devil worshippers, you know. They’re normally indifferent to most people, but I wouldn’t advise being around them when they go to do their worshipping. They use witches and summon things up that are best left alone.”

“I didn’t know that,” Dylan stated with a shiver. The very idea that he was carrying something that was connected with those kinds of people bothered him.

Dylan concluded his business and took his purchase with him. He turned and headed back up the street towards the inn. He wondered if he should throw the charm away or if he should keep it as a curiosity or maybe show it to his master.

The tavern was beginning to show some activity for lunchtime, and Dylan realized that he had been out a little longer than he had intended. It was not too late, and because he had had a late breakfast, he was not really hungry, so he went upstairs to the room. It was time to review his lessons.

It was getting close to dark when Cindy came to the room. Dylan had lost track of time with an experiment, and was a little startled when she knocked. But upon seeing who it was, he was suddenly happy for the company and an excuse to stop working.

“You really are turning into a bookworm,” she accused playfully. “You’ve been up here all afternoon. Now you need to come down and be sociable.”

Dylan sighed. He wordlessly put his things away and picked up his shoulder bag and put on his shoes. Then when he was ready, Cindy led him back down the stairs.

“You worked late,” Coran hailed as the two youngest members of their party approached the table. Everyone else was there. Dylan’s master slowly sipped from a cup and nodded at his approach indicating that he should take a seat.

“Did your studies go well?” the master asked his charge.

“Mostly,” the apprentice answered dutifully. “I had a bit of trouble with one part, but I think I’m close to solving it.”

Gage nodded again. “We will go over it together after supper,” he promised. “Do not be afraid to ask for help. You are but an apprentice. No one expects you to know everything.”

“Yet,” added Coran. “But like most master mages, you’ll one day think you do,” he laughed.

Gage shot a cold gaze across the table and after a few moments, he simply said, “Do you mind?”

“What in particular did you have a question about?” the master asked.

“Kirpov’s third law,” Dylan answered. “I understand what it says, and I understand what it means, but there’s something that bothers me about it.”

“Really?” Gage appeared puzzled. “It is not that ambiguous. What is it that bothers you?”

“The law states that undirected energies result in negative random affects on the spell caster and his immediate environment,” Dylan recalled. “And for the most part that’s understandable. If I summon energy with the power words of a spells preamble, but don’t provide direction function conclusion and closure, then the energies will seek the easiest means of dispersal toward a negative energy sink.”

“That is correct,” Gage confirmed.

“And I understand that if the energies are allowed to do that, then there will be random magical affects within the energy range of affect,” Dylan continued. “But what I don’t understand is why do they have to be negative affects? There are no axioms and no math to justify that conclusion that I can see.”

Gage smiled. “You are right,” he agreed. “There is no need to wait until later to solve this problem. The answer is a bit unorthodox, but otherwise simple.” He took a sip from his glass. “There is no calculation or law of magic that requires that it should have a negative affect. That part of the law is purely philosophical.”

“How so?” Dylan asked. As he had been talking with his master, food had arrived and he absently tasted the bowl of stew. It was very spicy and made his tongue tingle, but was otherwise good.

“The law speaks of relative conditions,” Gage answered. “In your present state, you are the best you can be. You have worked all your life to reach this point, and though you will some day be better, at this moment, you are in your best possible state. Anything that changes that state is a negative affect. So, any magical affect is a negative one.”

“What if a random affect gave me the ability to fly?” Dylan challenged, unconvinced.

“Without the lifetime of experience to teach you how to fly safely, the sudden ability to fly could put your life in great danger, no?” The master responded. “Even if you were to be healed of a dreadful disease, it would have denied your body the ability to defend itself against a recurrence. This too would be considered a negative affect.”

Dylan appeared thoughtful. He considered what his master had said and he could at last see the point that was being made. Finally he relented his prejudice and indicated that he understood. That pleased his master and Gage rewarded him with a pat on the shoulder.
“You are doing very well, Dylan,” the mage told him. "You are well ahead of the learning rate for apprentices. I think you will be wearing a black robe before too long.”

“I’ve tried to study hard, master,” Dylan replied in thanks.

“You have done a good job. I think that you are already capable of casting any spell assigned to you with the proper supervision. You understand the mechanics and the equations very well. The next phase of your instruction will be easy, but very tedious and long.”

“What is it, if you don’t mind my asking.” Dylan was blushing at the praise, but was also curious.

“We will discuss that later,” Gage told him. “For now let us finish our supper. Besides, I want to find out what the others learned during their outings today.”

Coran was talking. He had simply stated that his inquiries with the city militia had revealed that they had had numerous encounters with weaker undead, and an occasional encounter with some of the more powerful vampires, specters and liches, but with the help of the Temple and the Mage’s Guild, they had managed to defeat those creatures.

Crystal told them that she had learned from the high priest that a minor devil had been exorcised from a young man three weeks earlier. She mentioned that a tribe of people called the Chira were known for devil worshipping and witchcraft. “They all wear a tattoo or carry some kind of icon with a diagram on it,” she explained. “The priests described it to me, but they don’t have a drawing or anything because it is considered a blasphemous icon.”

Dylan suddenly remembered the thing that he had gotten from the beggar and he reached in his bag to find it. He held it out and dropped it on the table. “Is this it?” he asked.

“Well, now,” Coran began as he scooped the small tile up. “Where did you get this?”

“A beggar,” Dylan answered. “I gave her a couple of coins and she insisted I take this.”

“That looks like a Chira spirit mark,” Crystal announced as she leaned over close to Coran. “At least it matches the description.”

“I saw one of those marks today,” Rathe announced. “I didn’t know what it was, though. A dock hand had it drawn on his back. I really didn’t give it any more than idle curiosity.”

“A merchant told me that the Chira use witches to summon things,” Dylan added.

“That sort of agrees with some of the things that I have heard my father talk about,” Crystal noted. “He suspected that the Chira might be involved in what has been going on.”

“How do we find out for sure?” Gage wondered aloud. “I suppose we have to go to their lands and snoop around.”

“That is a bit inland,” Coran told them. “I had a little chat with some guards. They were complaining about the Chira. Apparently they’re not too well liked. Most of them are beggars and thieves.”

“They really don’t look any different than most people,” Crystal added. “I’ve met one or two. They sometimes have a little bit of a lilt in their speech, but that’s about the only way to tell them apart. The only other thing is that their whole race is in a sort of perpetual conflict with the Keld.”

“That doesn’t sound too healthy,” Coran commented with a chuckle.

“Who are the Keld?” Cindy asked.

“They’re a people who inhabit the great swamplands,” Coran explained. “They’re very clannish and cunning warriors. The only thing that keeps them in check is the inhospitable area where they live is full of creatures that find people quite tasty. It is a very harsh place to dwell, and it makes them very tough. They’ve never really been known to exist in large numbers, though.”

“It’s a good thing too,” Rathe added. “They fight like mad men and are ferocious. An army of Keld could ravage the countryside. The king may rule their lands, but it’s only on paper. If they wanted to rise up in rebellion and leave the kingdom, it would be very costly to put them down. I’ve met one or two along the southern coastal areas. They can fight as well empty handed as with a sword, and they seem to be immune to alcohol. I had one drink me under the table one night.”

“I have heard whispered respect of the Keld,” Velar added. “Though we should not find them dangerous in casual passing, we would be well advised not to offend them lest we find ourselves at odds with a worthy foe.”

“I suggest we first investigate the Chira,” Gage offered. “We know that they deal with devils, and the menions of hell are often behind undead.”

“I thought that the undead were always possessed by devils,” Dylan interrupted. He recalled the death of Kraal and the things he had been told at that time.

“Not always,” Gage told him. “It is often enough true, but sometimes the undead are possessed by demons.”

“Demons? What is the difference?”

“A great deal of difference to them,” Gage answered patiently. He had not intended to instruct his apprentice on this yet, but the opportunity had arisen and there might come a time in the near future that the boy may need the knowledge. “To us they generally seem to be the same. Evil is evil regardless, but there are some subtle differences. For one thing, demons do not come from the realm of the Nine Hells, but from the Abyss. They are not as cunning or organized as the Dukes of Hell and their minions, but they are every bit as evil and in many cases even more so. You can reason with a devil, because a devil has goals and wants. Demons are almost mindless and completely consumed by darkness.”

“The Demon Princes are trouble, too,” Coran added.

“True,” Gage agreed. “While most demons are mindless and attack randomly, the Demon Princes are very smart and can control all the lesser demons. They have but one goal and that is to destroy all living things. The Dukes of Hell don’t really want to destroy all living things, they just want to rule over all living things. They want us as slaves.”

“So how do we tell the difference?” Dylan asked.

“Well, for one thing,” Gage explained, “devils tend to look somewhat like people. They may be a funny color, or they may have the head of an animal, or they may have horns or something odd, but in general, they have arms and legs and a head and a body,” he paused then glanced sidelong at Rathe. “No offense.” Then he continued. “Demons are often shapeless or look like some kind of nightmarish thing. They may have long tentacles instead of arms, or a couple of heads or something really way out. Of course you have to be careful about that. Either one, devil or demon can project an illusion to disguise itself. And if it is inside a possessed person, you really can’t tell at all.”

“Some undead are also more often demons than devils,” Crystal added. “My father has done some research on the subject. Ghasts and ghouls are an example.”

“That is a good point,” Gage agreed.

“So we go inland and sorta take a look at the Chira,” Coran announced. “If we find that they’re the cause of the trouble, then what?”

“Then we have to determine what they are doing, why and how. And we need to determine if they are bringing devils or demons onto our plane. If they are doing that, then things could get very ugly.”

“Does anyone know the layout of this area?” Gage asked.

“A little,” Crystal answered. “Blue pines grow here as do some cypress trees. I occasionally try to find a few cankers that I can harvest. They are worth quite a bit if I can get some good ones.”

“What are cankers?” Cindy asked.

“I’ll show you,” the older woman answered. “We should see some of them.”

Gage and Dylan finished their meal and retired reluctantly. Dylan half hoped to be invited to stay behind again as he had been the night before, but Gage adamantly implied that he was to accompany him to their room. When they settled down in their room, Gage called Dylan over to the table where the youth had been studying all day.

“Now we start the most difficult part of learning spells. It is not complex or challenging, just very tedious and boring. And that is what will be the hardest part for you. You will be tempted to ignore its importance, but you must not.”

“Yes master,” Dylan acquiesced dutifully.

“Okay,” Gage opened a book and started his instruction.

“Spell interactions can be both tricky and dangerous. You can calculate and predict most of the things that will happen when two spells interact, but there are some that you would be well advised to memorize.” Gage turned to a page with some diagrams on it. Dylan recognized the Magic Houses diagram, he had been studying it for many months.

“It is inherently instinctive to even the least experienced apprentice what will happen if two spells from opposite domains interact. They will generally cancel each other out, but not always. For example if you were to cast a Fireball spell while underwater, what do you think would happen?”

“Water and Fire are in different houses of magic and are diametrically opposed, so I would think that the water would cancel the fire out,” Dylan guessed. He suspected it was wrong, but it was the most intuitive answer, and Gage was trying to teach him something so he had to go ahead and get the obvious out of the way.

“A water spell combined with an ice spell cast against a fire spell might do that, but water alone will not. While it is true that water cancels out fire normally, in the case of normal water and magical fire, what you would wind up with would be a very intense cloud of steam. The water would absorb the heat and take on a gaseous form. It would require the additional spell of a cold air based spell to completely cancel the fire out. So if you were to cast a Fireball under water, you would find yourself at the center of a steam pocket, and you, yourself would be the spell’s victim.”

“I think I understand,” Dylan agreed.

“Similarly, a ranged attack spell such as Lightning Bolt, when cast underwater, suddenly acts very similar to a Fireball would act normally. Lightning Bolt is a ranged attack against a single target, but when cast underwater, it travels outward from the caster in a single direction covering an expanding cone shaped area as it goes, but also getting weaker.”

Dylan nodded his understanding. “I think I see what you’re saying,” he told his master. “At least I can see the reason why I might need to know how some spells act under adverse conditions.”

“Good,” Gage approved. I have in this book a great many spells that you are already familiar with, and how those spells may be adversely affected. I want you to read each one, make notes in your own book about spell limitations, and be able to recall those limitations from memory. That is your primary mode of study until I tell you otherwise.”

“Yes sir,” the apprentice obediently answered. He took the book and pushed it aside. Then he took his own book and began his work.

The master observed his student critically for a few moments to ensure that the boy understood the instruction correctly. Then he retrieved a thin research booklet he had picked up at the guild from his bag and sat across the table from Dylan.