High Mage: The Spellmonger Series Book 5 by Mancour Terry

Author:Mancour, Terry [Mancour, Terry]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2014-10-02T07:00:00+00:00

* * *

I was musing on the possibility of secret weapons in my workshop a few days later when I received a

visit from my two nonhuman magical specialists, Stonesinger Azhguri and Master Onranion, an adept in Alkan songspells.

Master Azhguri was ancient, born during the last days of the Magocracy, from what his grandson, Master Guri had told me. He was kind of the patriarch over the Karshak lodge, and was solemnly accounted one of the best stonesingers of the age. He had certainly impressed me when he first sang the mountain. It had been he who had discovered the deposits of crystals and other minerals that had been affected by the Snow That Never Melted. The waystones had been the easiest to identify, and the most immediately useful. But he had been studying the rest of my exotic rock collection for months, now.

Onranion, for his part, had taken a passionate interest in the unique minerals. He had brought over a thousand years of specialized understanding through the vehicle of Alka Alon magic practiced as a high art. Onranion was adept at the intricacies of the thaumaturgically exotic. I figured that their overlapping and complementary disciplines would prove helpful, and I wasn’t wrong. They looked positively triumphant. After reviewing Dara’s unexpected avian experiment, I was a little leery of experimental thaumaturgy . . . but I had an expert in the field in Master Onranion. He and old Azhguri had been consulting with each other about the various stones in my vault, and they had something to show me.

They also looked half-drunk – Onranion was developing a fine appreciation for wine. They were excited about something having to do with the stones.

“This,” Azhguri said, in his gravelly voice as he set the first of the small crystals in front of me in my workshop, “is an amazing find.” With a twinkle in his eye he chanted a chorus of something in his own language . . . and the hammer on the table disappeared. He held out his hand and said another word, and it reappeared.

“I think it establishes a smaller, separate dimension,” Onranion theorized. “When I examined it in the ranahrar scale, I noticed that when empowered it had the capacity for inflating saras between the felsarai.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I said, honestly.

“Think of reality as resting on a framework,” he said, after a moment’s pause. “Like the framework of a house. This stone allows one who knows its operation to inflate the framework, insert a little extra room between the beams, so to speak.”

“It’s more like establishing a new dig in a mine,” countered Azhguri. “You’re just hollowing out a little extra space.”

“How much extra space?”

“How much do you need?” asked Azhguri. “Theoretically, it would only depend upon the amount of power you provided during the inception of the space.”

“A cubic foot? A mile?”

“How much power do you want to spend?” smirked Onranion. “That’s the only limitation. It could be large enough to house a city, theoretically.

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