Vergence (46 page)

After what felt like an age, but which couldn't have been more than a moment or two, she said something in a language he didn't recognise.

Tilting her head to one side, she reached out, and touched Ebryn lightly on the cheek before turning away.

The horde of creatures surrounding them turned and fell in behind her like a retinue, the larger ones blocking her from view in moments. As the procession moved out of sight, weaving between the sturdy tree trunks, Cormer let out his breath.

Ebryn turned to him. “Do you know what she said?”

“I can't say for certain. She greeted you in a familiar form.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means,” Cormer said, “she used a word for something like brother, or cousin.”

Ebryn laughed, but stopped when he saw the look on Brydeline's face. The same half fearful look he'd had from others when he folded the sevyric iron in his entrance test, and healed perfectly from broken bones.

“I think we should return now,” Brydeline said. “An affinity as strong as yours may be dangerous in a world like this.”

Affinity

E
BRYN RETURNED
to his lessons with Ben-gan the next day, feeling like he'd been filled with pure light. He found Ben-gan sitting at a table, playing a game of drake and ducks with Hoi. Ben-gan held one of the duck pieces in his hand, examining the board carefully. There weren’t many duck pieces left on the board, so it looked like Hoi was winning.

Ben-gan looked up, his mouth curled into a half smile. “I think master Hella is beating me. I play better as the drake.”

Ebryn sat and watched as Hoi captured Ben-gan's remaining pieces. Ben-gan played to the end, even when it was clear he was certain to lose, forcing Hoi to work for the victory.

As they reset the board Sevoi sauntered into the room, accompanied by Tuk-myrr.

“Ah … how is our young prodigy. Here by yourself today? No young ladies?” Sevoi said, watching Ebryn for a reaction out of the corner of his eye.

“Now, now, Sevoi,” Ben-gan said. “I think we should all try to get along as friends.”

“But would a true friend allow me to continue suffering such an indignity as this?” Sevoi asked, waving one of his sevyric bands in front of Ebryn.

“And a true friend wouldn't trouble Ebryn for such a thing,” Ben-gan said.

Sevoi sighed elaborately, and clinked his bands together. “I promise you, friend, remove these, and I'll never trouble you for anything again.”

Ben-gan frowned. “Come, Ebryn, let us find somewhere quieter for you to resume your studies.”

Half-way across the reading room Ben-gan paused, and gave Ebryn a penetrating look. “I think your journey to Alobria has changed you.”

Ebryn nodded. “I discovered a strong affinity.”

“Tell me about it as we walk,” Ben-gan said, glancing back at where Hoi and Sevoi sat.

Ebryn briefly described his visit to Alobria as they moved between the shelves, and finished with the warning he'd had from Cormer about the risks of summoning.

Ben-gan pulled a face. “I think there is little risk for those with a powerful affinity, other than arrest by the Vergence authorities. Only by overreaching will such a caster be in danger.”

“How would you overreach?” Ebryn asked.

“By summoning an archon or prince of an ephemeral plane. In the days of Volane no more than one or two were discovered in each generation, with an affinity powerful enough to command a prince, and then never with certainty. And going back a thousand years, since the rise of Volane, there were no more than you could count on the fingers of one hand who could hope to even influence an archon.”

“What's an archon?” Ebryn asked.

“Most of the ephemeral planes and many of the boundary worlds, such as the Alobric you visited yesterday, have a single ruler, or a set of rulers. These are beings of such power they might easily be mistaken for some of the gods our many religions hold dear.”

“Gods?”

“Yes,” Ben-gan said. “I think you can see how the temptation might be too much for a young caster, full of youthful ambition. Even now, an overconfident apprentice will attempt such a summoning every few years.

“On the rare occasions they are successful, most are found dead in some unpleasant manner, or disappear. Archons and princes of the ephemera do not enjoy being summoned, and most return to their homes taking part, or perhaps all, of the unfortunate summoner with them.”

Ebryn imagined being seized by something as great as one of the seven living virtues, worshipped in Fyrenar.

“I see,” he said.

“I think Cormer exaggerates the risk. He has a good heart, and no doubt his intentions are good, but for one with a strong affinity there is little danger in modest summoning.

“As with many aspects of our art, the key rests in sound knowledge. Most mishaps, I think, spring from poor understanding coupled with the temptation of overreaching — bringing a too powerful entity, or mistakenly fetching something beyond the caster's control.

“Naturally, you should not practise summoning while in Vergence, except under the direst circumstances—”

“We already have sufficient librarians,” Ebryn said.

Ben-gan laughed softly. “Yes, exactly so.”

Ebryn realised they were heading into an unfamiliar part of the library. “Where are we going?”

“To learn about your affinity. Your gift is rare and should be nurtured, and to grow your gift you need practice and—”

“Knowledge,” Ebryn said.

“That's right.”

Ebryn followed Ben-gan through a complicated sequence of turns, wondering as he did so how the man managed, even with years of familiarity behind him, to recall the layout of the library in such detail. It also occurred to him Ben-gan had just finished telling him all the reasons he should not be learning from the section of the library he was leading him to.

“If summoning is so dangerous, and also banned, what is the point of growing my affinity?” Ebryn asked.

“I think this is a good question,” Ben-gan said. “There are four good reasons. Firstly, I would say knowledge is never wasted in our art, you never know when some seeming trivia will turn out to be the very thing you later need. Secondly, this gift will stand you well should you ever have dealings with such creatures — but here we are, see for yourself.”

They turned a corner, and Ebryn found himself in another of those strange little corners that seemed to be scattered in odd places around the library. In the centre of the space was a cabinet, as broad and wide as a table, and tall enough to read at standing up. The books on the shelves facing into this secluded space were, almost without exception, very large, and thick through the middle.

Ben-gan made for a shelf without pausing, and heaved a couple of the largest books onto the top of the cabinet. The bindings were heavy and exceptionally well made — the books were amongst the finest Ebryn had ever seen. One was inscribed The Beasts And Spirits Of Ebror and the other The Beasts And Spirits Of Arbror. Both had the name 'Elimora' on the cover, and looking round Ebryn could see many more, possibly hundreds, on the surrounding shelves had the same name.

Ben-gan opened one and ran his hand down a page. “These are bestiaries of sorts, but far more useful I think.”

“They're amazing,” Ebryn said, examining the fine line drawings and detailed descriptions. “Did one person manage to do all these?”

“Elimora, yes,” Ben-gan said. “He started in the Hemetuen when Vergence was still part of Volane, but became fascinated, and then obsessed, with the Alobric planes. He spent the rest of his life creating these works to record what he found there.”

“So what are the other two reasons I should study these?” Ebryn asked.

Ben-gan smiled. “The third reason? The third reason is you need the knowledge to distinguish between those which are of the type associated with your affinities taxa, and those, which while seemingly similar, are partially or entirely different. I think you have already discovered beings you thought to influence, expected you could, but over which your affinity had no power.”

“Yes,” Ebryn said, remembering the trikawi snapping at his fingers on his first day in Vergence.

“The fourth reason. As you may have guessed, affinities are neither drawn from, nor limited to, bonding with beings of that taxa. The talent for forming such bonds arises from something deeper, something in common with casting. It draws on correspondences between the creatures and the nature of the skeins, the finest threads of being from which all things which exist are woven. Your affinity rests in the nature of the skeins themselves, and just as everything woven from your affinity, skeins will feel a kinship with you. I think you will find the same skeins will easily bend to your craft.

“I think the greater price we paid with the disbandment of the Exemetuer order is the loss of insight this branch of our craft brings to everything else we do.”

Ben-gan leafed through the book in front of him, handling each page carefully, almost reverentially. He smoothed a page flat, and slid the book towards Ebryn. “Look here. Do you recognise the creature in this illustration?”

“Yes,” Ebryn said. “It's like one kind we saw in Alobria.”

The illustration titled “Churlwood elementine” showed a creature like an immense ball of roots seemingly dragging itself free of the ground.

“Before Elimora's work, we called them root trolls, and made little effort to distinguish the different kinds. Yet you can see he distinguishes five differing kinds common to this type of border realm, and perhaps a dozen related beings elsewhere.

“A large part of what we do is built on correspondence — a similarity. A being such as this is too complex to understand in its entirety, half a lifetime's work to untangle all the folded skeins of its nature. Yet I think, having met one, you will instinctively grasp elements of its nature.”

Ebryn nodded uncertainly. “Yes, I guess so.”

Ben-gan ran his hand over his beard. “Let's see if I can explain. Do you think you could move one of these shelves, with all the books on them?”

“By hand, no,” Ebryn said.

“Do you think this churlwood could?”

“Easily,” Ebryn said, remembering the ease with which they'd shoved aside the huge rocks covering their lairs.

“Just so,” Ben-gan said. “Do you know the Emesues Order teaches such a thing — the craft to lift and move great weights? This is teaching by rote — simple, yet inflexible. I think you could learn the necessary casting easily, yet without it you are forced to rely on the strength of your own shoulders.

“Now consider the nature of the churlwood. Strength, skin like iron, rootedness. You need to experience these qualities as an emotion, an instinct. The casting will follow. I liken it to speaking. Do you think about how your mouth will say each word, or place words together? No. You have a thought, a feeling you wish to make known. In its pure form casting is the same. Draw on the nature of the ephemeral, and shape them to your needs in the moment.

“Take these books and study them. Learn as much as your head will hold. When I was your age, I summoned many beings like these. Not to use, but to study, to improve my craft. Practise what you learn — find something heavy and move it.”

“I think I'll take these back to my room, so I can study without any disturbance,” Ebryn said.

“That is good, I think. Oh, and one more thing before you go. Before I forget, I have something for you,” Ben-gan said, rummaging through the small bag he sometimes carried with him, and eventually holding out a folded piece of parchment, sealed with wax, and a fine chain with a small disk attached.

“What is it?” Ebryn asked.

“One of the few remaining privileges of my position, which I can yet exercise freely, is the right to promote students. This document recognises you as an adept of the orders. You are not obliged to accept, although I think you will find it of benefit. If you wish it allows you to leave your order and pursue your own business without penalty, and with the notional support of the city. Whatever you decide, I recommend remaining with your order for the moment, and using your time to study as much as you can.”

“Thanks,” Ebryn said as he accepted the disk, and parchment. Such an inadequate response, he realised, for such a gift, but the enormity of the surprise seemed to have robbed him of words.

He turned Ben-gan's gifts over in his hands for a few moments before looking up. “Thank you. Yes, I accept.”