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WIZARDRY LESSON TWO

“Now, the universe, children, is made entirely out of three things.” Fenworth dusted crumbs from his beard and dislodged a lizard. The creature grabbed a chunk of leftover dessert and darted under the wizard’s chair. Ignoring the skittering reptile, Fenworth looked around the table where the members of the quest had assembled for tea and cake.

“Three things so small that they cannot be seen by the eye of anyone but Wulder.”

Librettowit nodded in agreement and sipped his tea.

The wizard closed one eye and stared with the other at a point above the empty cake platter. A cloud of green mist formed, hovering over the middle of the large wooden table. Its color faded to white, and then an image became clear as wisps of cloud drifted away.

Kale watched the translucent, three-dimensional picture of a bowl tilt slightly so they could all see the creamy batter within.

“Harrumph.” Fenworth cleared his throat and patted his beard. “This is batter for pancakes.”

Toopka licked her lips.

“Add three eggs,” said Fenworth. Three eggs floated into the image, tapped on the side of the bowl, and emptied with a plop, plop, plop into the batter. The shells disappeared. A wooden spoon stirred. “And now you have batter for crepes.”

The spoon lifted and thin batter dripped into the bowl.

“Add flour,” said Fenworth. Two glass cups of flour appeared over the bowl and dumped their white powdery contents into the batter. The spoon stirred. “And you have cake batter. Add more, and you have dough for daggarts.” Another measuring cup came barreling out of nowhere and jettisoned flour into the bowl. The moment the glass cup was empty, it shattered, but the smithereens vanished into nothing.

Fenworth cleared his throat. “You see how changing the amounts of the ingredients changes the substance?”

Kale nodded her head but had no idea how this related to the three very small things Fenworth said made everything in the universe.

“Wulder took three ingredients and made the world,” continued the wizard. “Of course, He also created the three ingredients. One is ozoic, the second is azoic, and the third is ezoic.”

The picture above them changed to three round dots, one red, one blue, and the other white.

“In the first element we will examine, we have one ozoic and one azoic.”

The bowl reappeared, and the red dot and blue dot fell into it much as the eggs had.

Except he didn’t crack them on the edge. Kale suppressed a giggle.

“Don’t let your mind wander, Kale,” the wizard’s voice entered her thoughts, reprimanding her.

Yes sir.

The bowl disappeared, leaving the two colored dots suspended in midair, clinging to one another. The white dot circled the pair.

Librettowit looked up from his mug. “A simple substance. Same three ingredients which make up all substances, only in different combinations. A wizard, with the right knowledge, can call together ozoics, azoics, and ezoics.”

Fenworth harrumphed and glared at the librarian. “My lecture, I believe, Wit.” He patted his beard and a slew of dots shot out from the grizzly curls to join the picture above the table.

“When a wizard,” Fenworth cocked an eyebrow at Librettowit and continued, “places these zoics in close proximity with each other, they assume the positions that Wulder has ordained and become the substance they are meant to be.”

Dar slurped his tea and ignored Leetu’s frown at his manners. “Only Wulder can create the primary ingredients.”

“Of course!” The wizard nodded. “And they can only be combined in a mode prescribed by Wulder. A wizard is only as great as his understanding of the complexity of Wulder’s established order. Within those parameters, a wizard can do almost anything.”

He heaved a melancholy sigh and shook his head. His shoulders drooped. His gaze lowered from the busy image hanging over the table to the empty plates and scattered crumbs.

“Where Risto and his comrades have gone astray,” Fenworth said, “is in the belief that they can create primary ingredients. And that they have no need of following Wulder’s dictums.”

Kale forgot the swirling dots above the table and eyed the wizard. He looks old—and tired—and so very sad. Is he sorry for Risto? No, that couldn’t be. He’s mourning for all those who have lost loved ones at Risto’s hand. He’s sorry for the pain Risto has inflicted on others. He can’t be sorry for Risto.

Fenworth shrugged. As he looked back at his picture hanging above the table, his expression brightened, and he clapped his hands.

“It’s gone,” said Toopka.

“No, little one. I’ve replaced the illusion with reality. Now, in its natural size, only the eye of Wulder can behold it. But wait, I am adding to it.”

Over the table a gleam of light reflected off a narrow strip of metal that had not been there seconds before. The metal expanded and took shape.

Toopka clapped her hands and bounced in her chair. “A blade!”

“Yes,” said Fenworth. “All made from the same configuration of zoics you observed before. Then you couldn’t see them because they were small. Now there are so many of them you can see the form I have created. I will add other configurations to make the hilt.”

No sooner had he spoken his intention than a dark mass began to form at the blunt end of the shining sword. A hilt took shape with gold swirls embedded in a leather grip and a large ruby at the pommel. A gold emblem of Paladin’s army shone on the crossguard.

Fenworth reached up and plucked the sword from the air. He presented the sword to Bardon, but Bardon did not raise his hands to take it.

With his eyes fixed firmly on the magnificent sword, the lehman said, “I cannot, sir. It is a knight’s sword, and I have not earned the right to carry it.”

“You will need it on the quest.”

Kale held her breath. Fenworth’s giving Bardon permission to take the sword. Should he take it? Will he?

Bardon squared his shoulders and stood from the table. “It would not serve me if I carried it under false pretenses.”

“Aye,” concurred Lee Ark. “Paladin will provide him with the appropriate weapon should the need arise. The boy does well not to take the offering.”

Kale saw the approval in the general’s face and hoped Bardon saw it too. But when she reached with her mind to tell him, Good job, she was met by a swirling mass of dark emotions. She backed off, and her glance swept around the table. Tension visibly stiffened the postures of her comrades. Everyone waited. All eyes watched the wizard and the young lehman.

Fenworth ignored Lee Ark’s interruption and continued to watch Bardon’s stonelike expression. Only the lehman’s eyes hungered for the sword.

“You desire the sword just as you desire knighthood.”

“Yes,” said Bardon.

The sword shrank until it fit in the palm of the wizard’s hand. He tucked it in a pocket of his voluminous robes. “I shall keep it for you.”

“I’ll not be a knight, Wizard Fenworth. Grand Ebeck said as much at our last meeting.”

“Really?” The wizard turned to stare at Librettowit. “Oh dear, tut-tut. No, I don’t think you have that right. Oh dear, no, no, not right at all.”

He clapped his hands together and rubbed them with enthusiasm. He moved around the table to slap one firm hand on Regidor’s shoulder and reached for Kale’s. She braced herself against the strength of the blow and even then bent under the wizard’s heavy hand.

One minute I think he’s a doddering ancient, and the next I think he could beat Brunstetter at arm wrestling.

“Right you are, Kale, my dear. I am indeed a doddering wrestler of many weighty things. Not Brunstetter, I think not Brunstetter.”

He squeezed his fingers into her shoulder and beamed at his two apprentices. “Now that your lesson on elementary wizardry is firmly established in your minds, shall we proceed with our quest?”

“No!” shouted Librettowit. “We must organize, gather pertinent data, assign responsibilities.”

Fenworth looked astonished. “But Librettowit, that is what I have just done.”

“Only in your mind, Fenworth.”

“No, no, Wit. Didn’t I just explain that until one masters certain knowledge one must content oneself with being a follower and not a leader? I carefully explained the complexity of what must be learned and that such knowledge is attainable.”

“Only in your mind, Fenworth.”

The wizard looked confused, but before he could voice an objection, the librarian pressed on. “We now have seven comrades, two children, two minor dragons, and an unhatched third, and four major dragons to consider.”

“Four?” Fenworth wrinkled his brow.

“Celisse, Merlander, and the two dragons ridden by Lee Ark and Leetu,” Librettowit explained. “And that reminds me, Lee Ark has information of import.” A hopeful tone slipped into the tumanhofer’s speech. “Perhaps his message will put off the quest to Creemoor.”

“I’m afraid not,” said Lee Ark.

All eyes turned to him. He stood and placed his fists upon the table.

“Paladin has given us a rescue mission. Our goal is to pull a longtime friend out of Burner Stox’s clutches. Until recently this devoted o’rant was relatively safe within Risto’s stronghold.” He paused, and his gaze shifted to Kale. “Your mother is in danger, Kale. She has one more task to perform for Paladin, and we are to be at hand when it is completed. We will then bring her out of Creemoor to safety.”

Kale’s breath carried a quiet question. “My mother?”

Lee Ark nodded. Kale turned to look at Dar. He gave her a gentle smile and a reassuring wink. She then looked to Leetu. The emerlindian’s eyes held a sparkle of joy in her otherwise serene expression.

But a question marred Kale’s anticipation. It hung in her mind like a black thunderhead. Who is this “mother” who left her child in slavery?