A Clash of Magics by Guy Antibes (read this if txt) 📕

lunch. I would invite you to dine with me, but I have invited the foreign minister of West Moreton, and it would be inappropriate for you to attend.”

“I understand,” Trevor said.

The rest of the audience consisted of questions posed to Reena. Two scribes wrote down her answers. When that was finished, they left the courtroom and returned to the church.

“You know the way to the Order of Gold?” Seer Caspur asked. “No one else among us can enter the order but you, not even my daughter.” Caspur glanced at Lissa.

Lunch seemed to speed by, and Trevor took Snowflake to the Order of Gold. He easily remembered the way and walked into the lobby and told the same woman he remembered from before that he was here to speak with Hamel Rorsik.

The leader of the order made Trevor wait for half an hour for a prearranged appointment. Trevor walked into the same office. A lump of gold sat on a shelf in his office.

“The mace?” Trevor asked.

“I can’t be sure, but I think so. The tower was destroyed by the fire of a magician’s circle. Nothing recognizable remained. There were other gold blobs, but this one was by itself.”

Trevor picked it up. It weighed right. He turned it over to reveal the texture of stonework on the bottom side. He put it back before taking a seat, even though Rorsik hadn’t offered him one.

“Azar tells me you have an idea for a charm?”

Trevor pursed his lips. “I’m not a magician, but…” He told Rorsik about his experience with the two Maskumite magicians.

“That is against all our magical codes!”

“I didn’t dream up the illusion. I could see the magicians, and no one else could. We need charms to hand out to all the world’s leaders and their guards,” Trevor said.

“But what if it is too difficult?” Rorsik asked.

“You are golds, are you not? I would expect you to come up with something.” He described how the cloth outlined the magician and then vanished as the covering became part of the spell.

“I’ll have my people research it.”

“I’ll suggest the seers do the same.”

Rorsik looked disgruntled. “How can you dictate what any magician or seer does?”

“Consider me a representative of the seers. I have been to Collet.”

“Teleported in an ancient chair?”

Trevor nodded, but he wasn’t about to tell the still-hostile Hamel Rorsik the entire truth. “They want me to become some kind of messenger for Dryden.”

Rorsik’s face turned white. “There was one such messenger centuries ago. He died defending his faith, so says the legend. Dryden was so angry there was a cataclysm. We still feel the effects today.”

“You believe that? I thought you weren’t a believer?”

“What is truth and what is legend?” Rorsik said. “You have a unique talent. Perhaps Dryden has made all this happen.”

“If he has, it wouldn’t hurt to make amends with Seer Caspur,” Trevor said.

Rorsik withdrew his hands from the top of the desk. “I will do what I feel I have to do, but I will work with Azar’s men to come up with some charms that might work.”

“Good. We could use the one that is the easiest to make,” Trevor said. “I suppose that is all we have to talk about, unless you have any questions.”

“How did you escape from the Blue Tower? You didn’t have a magician with you.”

“My Jarkanese sword can hold some magic, and I found an old breastplate that could as well. The trip to Jarkan drained the magic out of both.”

“I searched the order’s archives and couldn’t find anything on teleportation or on borrowing magic. I can’t discount the possibility that you are of Dryden.” Rorsik admitted before glancing at the clock on his cabinet. “I have another appointment.”

Trevor exited the building, glad that ordeal was over. Despite Rorsik’s research and almost-acceptance of his appointment as Dryden’s messenger, the leader still found it easy to be rude to him. Trevor mounted Snowflake to return to the church, discovering that he no longer cared about how Rorsik felt as long as the Order of Golds could create a suitable charm. Trevor didn’t feel the chances were very good. He worried about the situation all the way to the church and on the short walk to a restaurant where the seer joined them.

“Where is Gorian Custik?” Trevor asked Seer Caspur after they were seated and he had done some thinking.

“He traveled to Jilgrath with his lady friend.”

“Glynna Bostik?” Brother Yvan asked.

The seer nodded.

“Then we will be traveling through Jilgrath on our way to Ginster,” Trevor said. “I don’t have the faith I should have to rely on Hamel Rorsik to come up with the charms we need to combat the invisible Maskumite magicians.”

Brother Yvan raised his eyebrows. “He can consult with the magical academy, as well. They might have better methods than the golds.”

“They do,” Lissa said before chomping on a chunk of buttered bread. “I would know.”

“Can you make charms?” Seer Caspur asked his daughter.

“I can, but I suspect these charms will tax my capabilities. It takes more theoretical knowledge of magic than I have. For this charm, the successful magician will have to be very creative,” Lissa said.

“It won’t hurt to have more people working on the problem,” Trevor said. “It is too much to hope for anyone to cooperate.”

“Certainly not with Hamel Rorsik,” Seer Caspur said. “I think it is a very good idea to seek Gorian out.”

~

The abundant supply of Zinkel’s ale brightened Brother Yvan’s mood, not that it needed brightening. They had found sources enough in Jiksara, but Trevor remembered the ale tasted the best at the brewery, so they found a suitable inn closer to the brewery that served the drink. After checking in midmorning, they sent a message to the mayor that they had