The Wizards of Sevendor: An Anthology by Terry Mancour

Author:Terry Mancour [Mancour, Terry & Mancour, Terry]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-01-31T23:00:00+00:00

***

There was more to Banamor’s impulse than mere bureaucratic efficiency. He was genuinely concerned with the spread of magic outside of Sevendor. A morning meeting with Sire Cei, newly returned from his estates, had brought tales of strange creatures attracted to the entire Bontal Vale, ever closer to the magical white mountain and the town for which he was responsible. But that was a symptom, he knew. What he suspected was that the leeching of snowstone into the surrounding world was having a more profound and fundamental effect.

He was no thaumaturge. He was a businessman. Magic was his trade, even if he wasn’t personally adept at the intricacies of the great spells that had filled Sevendor. He had no pretensions of great arcane skill, nor the native Talent to pursue such skill.

But he recognized opportunity, when he saw it, and was keenly aware of dangers, both obvious and subtle. Keeping his skin intact and his belly full had been his operating principal for years as a footwizard. While he no longer feared the Royal Censors or missing a meal, the instincts he’d developed in his career on the road still informed his intuition. It was telling him that there was both danger and opportunity bound up with this matter.

He frustrated young Ravalon with the frequency of his stops, once Joppo brought the team and carriage around. Indeed, before they’d even left the domain Banamor insisted they stop at the Diketower to examine the stream. He had the younger mage take readings with a savistator and record various species of plants growing in proximity to the Ketta and record them. Thrice more did they pause along the course of the stream as it entered Bastidor to make observations.

“My lord, was it not the sport Talents you wished to study?” Ravalon asked, the fourth time they returned to the carriage. “Why are we concerned with the plants and rocks?”

“They might not have taught you this at the academy,” he said, digging at the lad’s impressive education, “but water runs downhill. Particles in water get trapped in the banks or bottom of a stream. It’s all very complicated,” he added, sarcastically. “The magical resistance readings show me how much snowstone has gotten trapped and where. The variety of plants and types of animals show me how profound the effect is, and how far it extends.”

“And that tells you what, exactly?” Ravalon asked, confused.

“Nothing yet,” Banamor admitted. “But it is knowledge. Knowledge is useful, even if you don’t always know how it’s going to be useful.”

They tarried in Bastidor Town for luncheon, allowing Joppo to rest and feed the team while they supped at a popular tavern that catered to travelers. Bastidor had grown significantly, since the rise of the Spellmonger. That had started even before Minalan had conquered the domain in his first war as the traffic to and from the magelands had increased. When he’d first come through the village when he first sought out the rumors of a magelord, Bastidor had been only slightly less-miserable than Sevendor had been.

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