WHAT PARALLEL COURSES DID 'ANON AND VAREES FOLLOW RETURNING? [closed, self-mod]

[Varees Har'ethwyn]

ooc: Self-moderated w/approval from Kalinda

Timestamp: Wee Candlemarks, 29-30 Imperos, Era XIV PF

The mists that haunted the alleys of Vortex after dark were nothing like their counterparts at dawn. These were thick, dark, cold, malevolent. They were a mantle and comfort for thieves and worse. Varees eyed the obscure alleys to either side of him mistrustfully, and retreated deeper into his cloak, as if it were some sort of sanctuary from both cold and danger. He was glad that he had recently purchased these warmer clothes, and glad also for the warmth and fortification of wine, the legacy of toasts drained earlier that evening in honor of his recent completion of his basic sorcery studies, and of the tea and warm punch he had later drunk while waiting for his co-celebrant, his best friend 'Anon, to exhaust the establishment's wine cellar.

Varees' companion swayed perilously at his side as they walked, forcing the elf to divide his attention between watching out for muggers and making sure his friend didn't pitch face-first into the cobblestones. The ordeal wouldn't have been so bad if the man had been the quiet sort of drunk, but such was not Varees' luck this darkening. "Heeeere kitty kitty," the drunk companion howled into the alleys in a voice that was as full of volume and the stench of alcohol as it was devoid of melody, "Oh wheere is kitty kitty, th' mice all sing 'is ditty, 'cause kitty's gone away!"

The Esh'lahier liked 'Anon a lot; the human and elf had been friends from back when they had both lived in Har'oloth, had taken care of and watched out for one another in a female-ruled, vysstichi ridden society, but right now the man was drunk, very drunk, and was sorely testing the strength of their comeraderie with his behavior and lack of discretion. They had stayed out far too late, and while Varees had had only a couple glasses of wine in honor of his recent graduation, 'Anon and swilled and swilled and swilled.

To him had fallen the unenviable task of walking the man home, where 'Anon's unhappy wife would most likely be waiting up to greet them. Poor foolish bastard. One did not marry a part vysstichi women raised in vysstichi society and then expect to anger her with impunity simply because they had moved to the surface. This was not going to be pretty, and Varees, who was not one who relished angry altercation, would find himself right smack (in more than one sense!) in the middle of it, quite possibly a secondary target of Edara's wrath, as an accomplice and enabler in her husband's shenanigans.

"An' as the cat ran outa life," 'Anon continued, as the pair approached the entrance to 'Anon's street, "the elf cleaned off his fork and knife, and to avoid domestic strife-"

"He hushed and did not wake his wife," completed Varees quietly, turning suddenly towards his friend and raising his hand repressively in front of 'Anon's mouth. By Haya! if he kept up this cacaphony, it wouldn't matter if Edera waited up for him. She'd *get* up, and be if anything all the more irritated for having been roused from sleep. It was a wonder no one else had risen from their beds and opened their dark, shuttered windows to take exception to the commotion they -and it *would* be "they", even though Varees was doing his best to be as silent as the fog itself- were raising.

The interruption seemed to bring the human at least partly back to his senses. He stopped and stared into the street, blinking. "I know where we are," he announced with a solemnity only very drunk people can muster when making such a trivial observation, "we're almost back to my place! I hope my wife isn't...feth, how late is it, anyway?"

"Late enough," answered the elf quietly, taking the human gently by the elbow and urging him gently the rest of the way home. About another twenty paces into that road and they were there, in front of 'Anon's house. The windows were dark.

"Ioannes be praised!" the human exclaimed in a voice loud enough to make Varees grind his teeth, "Edara isn't-"

*snap* The shudders of the window directly above the door slammed open to reveal darkness, a darkness revealed only by a pair of glowing red eyes. A pair of *angrily* glowing red eyes. "Edara isn't what?" came a voice from the window, feminine, yet as cold, hard, and jagged as the tip of an icicle.

And so it begins, thought Varees groaningly, his dread-laden heart hitting the cobblestone streets at his feet. Feth me.

[Varees Har'ethwyn]

There seemed to be an unspoken rule that whenever a group of men on an outing encountered a tense situation in need of defusing, it was always the one most drunk who insisted on doing the talking for the group. Tonight, much to Varees' chagrin, was to be no exception. "Oh, hey, honey," called 'Anon with a forced cheerfulness that he probably wouldn't have been able to pull off even when sober, "we were just out having-"

"...a little celebration?" Edara completed. Her voice was as hard and icy as before, and initially just as quiet, but the tension and volume crescendoed as she spoke. "Using your friend's graduation as an excuse, to get filthy, stinking, SOUSED?! Do you know what time it is, 'Anon?!"

The human, seemingly still oblivious to the magnitude of the peril, smirked. "I dunno, honey, I thought *you* had the clepsydra."

The ruddily glowing eyes seemed about to burst into flames; Varees felt he had to do or say something. "*ahem*, Edara?" he began tentatively, trying to show the sheepishness his friend ought to have been displaying. "It is kind of my fault that-"

"KIND OF!" exclaimed Edara, silencing him with her deadly glare as much as with her interjection. Then her voice grew quiet again. "Well, since you are so generous as to admit fault, why don't you take him home with you. He certainly isn't welcome here."

"Ah, honey!" protested 'Anon, who finally seemed to suspect the depth of his impending woes, "You're kicking me out? You can't be serious!"

The eyes in the window narrowed to slits. "Deadly," assured Edera, and Varees had no trouble doubting she meant the word literally. 'Anon wrinkled his brow, trying to muster his sodden wits. "Well, wait! Honey! Edie, dear! Can't I at least pick up some of my things so that I'm not a burd-"

"Your THINGS!" the wife exclaimed, the eyes shooting wide open now. "Of course! Hold on, I'll get you some." The eyes disappeared for a moment, and the window was dark. Varees felt a growing dread. Something bad was about to happen.

The object shot out without warning and struck 'Anon on the head with a sharp slap before the drunkard even realized it was coming. Whatever Edera had thrown was already skittering off the pavement by the time the human belatedly registered protest with a vague: "Hey!" He turned around, squinting into the dark to try to see what it was that had just hit him. Varees, with his keener senses, already knew that it was a shoe, one of 'Anon's nicer shoes.

The elf just barely had time to duck when he saw the second projectile hurtle towards him out of the corner of his eye. The second shoe, presumably the first one's partner, whizzed past his ear closely enough for him to feel the breeze of its passing. It came to land on the grid pattern of the cobblestone pavement next to him.

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The entire room was painted white, with an austerely regular grid of thin, perfectly straight black lines superimposed upon all four walls, ceiling, and floor. Varees standing opposite the elderly vysstichi male, felt like he was the white king standing opposite the black one on a chessboard. "An object by default tends to travel along lines of space," explained Danvan, as the Esh'lahier tried to maintain his grip on Clara and listen to his teacher at the same time. "It only veers from its path if either a force acts on it, or the lines of space themselves bend around it." The vysstichi sorceror, so starkly black against the white walls, gestured, somewhat unnecessarily, to point out the lines painted all over the room. "These lines are to help you visualize the space you are to bend," he explained. "When you cast this spell, try to imagine bending these lines in the area where you want the spell to take effect.

"In doing this you will employ the shaping technique of Alteration, which is the technique used to effect a change in the shape or texture of something on the material plane. In this case, what you are warping the shape or texture of will be space itself. But for now, I just want you to focus on, well Focusing, which I explained to you earlier.."[/b]

Yes, Focusing thought Varees absently, as he struggled to pull the essences he could find together so that he could Channel it through his Vis the way he had done earlier with Force Bolt. He had only the vaguest notion of what it meant to Alter the mana as he channeled it, having, of course, never actually done it before. Once he focused the Ara properly, he channeled it into his Vis, to realize the arca- what did Danvan call it again?- arcalysis that would make it the mana he would then perform Alteration on. So many steps, and yet this was supposed to be a very *simple* spell. Weaving the ara into his Vis, Varees then released the spell with his best guess at Alteration.

Danvan took a large marble and rolled it towards Varees' feet. The glass ball rolled straight down one of the lines on the floor and struck the elf right on the toe. Snapping out of Clara, Varees looked down at the marble. "Doesn't look like it worked," he observed superfluously.

"Did you visualize the lines bending and warping as you released the spell?" the instructor asked, raising his eyebrows dubiously.

Varees rolled his eyes in mute frustration with himself, and was about to give voice to that frustration when his teacher held up his hand to cut him short. "No troubles, young Varees, no troubles," he said softly. Danvan was remarkably patient and mild-mannered for a vysstichi. Age and long experience with what sort of teaching methods worked best had taught him those rather uncharacteristic habits.

"Try it again, this time without me talking. Can you remember the steps without me reminding you?"

Varees nodded. "Yes, Master Danvan, I believe so."

"We shall see about that. Proceed whenever you are ready."

It took the Esh'lahier the better part of ten minutes to reach Clara once more. He was getting tired, for his last failure had cost him not only the energy and effort of concentration, but a portion of his Vis. At last, when he was focussing and channeling, and ready once more to attempt Alteration, Danvan took a second marble and rolled it towards Varees' feet. Varees imagined the lines warping just in front of him, bending like they would if you looked at them through a glass of water. The marble veered abruptly to one side.

"Good!" said DAnvan, brightly but quietly. "Now keep that going; we're going to try something a bit more drastic." He produced a third marble and tossed it straight at Varees' face. It flew straigt at him and then veered just a little, smacking into the wall a couple feet behind him and clattering and rolling across the floor.

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"I can't believe you did that, woman!" exclaimed 'Anon, with indignant disbelief.

"If you need more convincing, I can give you some more of your things," hissed the female at the window.

Varees placed his hand warningly on his friend's shoulder before he could say anything that would provoke another salvo of shoes. "Let's just take your shoes and go," he suggested quietly.

[Ffesshssia'ad]

ooc: Gar! Wrong account.

[Varees Har'ethwyn]

'Anon would have none of the voice of reason at his side. "Feth that!" he fumed, shaking Varees' hand angrily off of his shoulder as he glared steadily at the red eyes glaring back at him from the dark window. He brandished the shoe that had struck him, shaking it furiously. "You know what, bitch," he called out, "I don' think I need these. I already got a pair on my feet, you know. Here!"

The human threw the shoe at the window, or at least in the general direction of it. It came out of his hand awkwardly and struck the wall well wide of the intended target area. Edera laughed nastily, which of course only made 'Anon even angrier. Before Varees knew what he was going to do, the human snatched the other shoe, the one the elf was holding, from his hand and threw it as well. This time his aim was truer; the shoe sailed right into the middle of the window -only to slam into the shutters which had just snapped shut. 'Anon swore in impotent rage as the shoe plopped down onto the street next to the stoop. He started searching the street around their feet.

"Cobblestone!" he barked, holding out a hand towards Varees as if he expected his friend to have a pocket full of spare cobblestones. "Gimme a goddam cobblestone! I'm gonna smash those shutters in, you just wait!"

Varees eyed the shutters glumly. They were quite heavy, and it would have taken a rather forceful projectile to smash through them.

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"Your next spell," explained Danvan, as he carefully stood the Primer to Arcana on its edge in the center of the table in front of his student, "is a fun one, one of those smash-things-to-pieces spells that everybody associates with Sorcery. It's called Force Bolt, and as the name implies, it involves creating a concentrated bolt of force with which you can strike things. An accomplished mage can do things like smash windows and even doors with it. For you, for now, we'll stick to trying to knock this book off its perch."

The old vysstichi picked up a stool and paced off about ten paces away from where the book stood balanced on edge. Setting the stool down, he pointed to it. "Have a seat, Mr. Har'ethwyn," he invited. Varees complied, and sat facing the Primer he had spent the previous evening studying as Danvan had instructed. It looked odd standing upright as it did, against the background of the black-and-white grid pattern on the wall behind it. "Keep your eyes on the Primer while we talk. It will help you with your concentration, I think."

"Now relax and go into Clara as you learned yesterday," said the old vysstichi male. "You do remember the steps to weaving a spell, right? Go ahead and talk me through them in your own words."

Varees, feeling oddly as if he were talking to the book, recalled: "First you go into the state of Clarity or Clara," he began.

"And the technique used for doing that is called..." prompted Danvan.

"Meditation?" answered Varees, his voice rising in the uncertain cadence of a question in spite of knowing the answer.

"Was that a question or an answer, Master Varees? You need to grasp these concepts with certainty. Tentativeness when handling the Essences of Force can get you killed. Now, continue, please. What will you perceive in Clara, and what do you do next?"

Varees eyed the Primer to Arcana in front of him, as if hoping it would open to the correct page and show him the answer. But it merely stood there, taunting him with its inertia. "In Clara one perceives the essences from the Astral Planes. There are many such essences, and each school of magic has one proper to it, one from which it draws its power."

"And the essence proper to sorcery is...?"

"The Essence of Force," responded Varees, glaring resentfully at the Primer, which could have told him all of this very easily. Such a drab, awful book, and yet it was supposed to be his passport into the astral planes and his key to the mysteries of magic?

"Yes! Good, I like the certainty in your voice now. Continue. Once you find the Essences of Force in Clara, what do you do?"

"You Focus on those essences, gathering them together to bring them into this world-"

"When you say 'this world, Master Har'ethwyn," interrupted Danvan, who was now pacing back and forth off to Varees' side, so as not to stand between him and the Primer, "what exactly do you mean. What is the exact term we use for 'this world'? Telath? The 'world of the living? What?"

"The Material Plane," he said, answering more precisely.

"Good!" approved Danvan, still pacing. "Now, what do you do to actually bring the focused essences into the material plane. What is that technique called?"
Varees' pink-flushed gold eyes bored into the unhelpful cover of the Primer, as if staring at it hard enough would enable him to see the pages. "Shaping," he announced after a few moments.

"Not quite," said Danvan. "Shaping is what you do after you've got your mana into the material plane. But you've got to do something else first."

Varees thought a bit more. "Channeling," he said at last. "You have to channel the ara into this sphere."

"Right," said Danvan. "Now, once you're ready to shape this spell, to mix ara with a peace of Vis to realize the weave of the spell, you're going to employ a shaping technique called abjuration. Do you remember what that is?"

The Esh'lahier frowned, and took his eyes off of the Primer to glance tentatively at the vysstichi master. "Abjuration, erm, the focus and control of a flow of something?" Danvan nodded. "Close enough -stay focused on the book, please," he gestured with a long, ebon finger at the Primer on the table. Varees turned his eyes back onto it. "Yes, abjuration is the technique one uses to control motion or movement. In this case, you're going to concentrate and throw a little ball of force at the Primer there, with the intent of knocking it off the table. Now I've already imparted the spell's weave to you, so I want you to go through the process we just talked through, and cast your spell."

Varees focused on the book in front of him and willed his mind to relax. He went through the steps he had just described, going into Clara, which was by far the most difficult and time-consuming of the tasks for him, then focusing the essences of force and chanelling them into this world-The Material Plane his internal Danvan corrected-, where he could weave it with a piece of his Vis and abjure it towards the book poised so provocatively in front of him. When he had the weave together, he released it.
The Primer flew satisfyingly off of the table and smacked into the gridded wall behind it.

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"'Anon, what are you doing?" he called out, as his drunk companion made to throw a piece of cobblestone he had managed to pry loose from the pavement at the shuttered windows above his door. "Stop!" he commanded, placing his thin nimble fingers over the human's angrily clenched hand. The man started to resist, and shot his friend an angry look. "Stop," Varees repeated, more soothingly and pleadingly. The anger passed slowly from 'Anon's eyes, and he seemed gradually to come back to himself -albeit it was still a rather drunk self- and his hand went limp as he allowed the elf to pry the cobblestone loose from his grip.

[Varees Har'ethwyn]

'Anon stared at his friend uncomprehendingly for a moment, as if he had spoken to him in a long-forgotten language. Then he took in a deep breath and exhaled hard, emitting a stream of vapor into the cool autumn darkening, which vanished quickly into the surrounding fog. Varees felt the tension in his friend's body subside. Reluctantly, the man let the cobblestone he had picked up pass to the elf's care. Varees dropped it onto the street to rejoin its brethren.

"Just come crash at my place for the darkening," he suggested, "and we'll sort this out with Edara in the morning."

'Anon gazed at him with his bleary, bloodshot eyes for a moment, then smiled and patted the elf vigorously on his slender shoulders. For a moment, Varees thought he was about to get one of those maudlin drunken "Your th'bessssh frien'inna world" speeches, but instead the human shook his head sadly. "Can't let you get involved in this," he said firmly. "It's between me an' the FIEND in there." He gestured angrily up to the shuttered window, from which there was no response.

With a sort of grim solemnity, he marched up to his door and tried the handle. Then he tried it again. Then he swore and tried it again, rattling the door impatiently this time. The door was locked. Varees stood there and watched. "Do you have a key?" he asked.

As if on cue the shutters opened once more, and the red eyes, now gleaming with a sort of gloating triumph, reappeared just over 'Anon's head. "Did you forget your key again, dear?" Edera's voice said in mock-sweetness. "How awful. Guess you'll be sleeping on Varees' floor tonight. Of course, poor Varees doesn't have a place of his own yet, does he?" The eyes flared a look at the elf. "He's only marginally less of a bum than you are. I hope your being there doesn't get him in trouble with his landlord."

'Anon glared up into the dark window. "Just open the stinkin' door, woman!" he fumed. Edera glanced down, her long white hair just apparing against the window sill for a moment before she laughed and then disappeared again, snapping the shutters closed once more.

"Jorel's balls!" cried 'Anon, and started pounding on the door in frustration. "Oi! Open up you she-fiend! Open!! I'm your husband!" Varees intervened once more. "'Anon, wait," he said quietly, pulling back on his friend's shoulder to keep him from pounding futiley on the door until the watch came. "I can help, you know. I have learned some sorcery, remember?"

'Anon blinked at him, his arm still poised to resume pounding on the door. "You can get this door open?" he asked.

Varees nodded, and maneuvered his body between the man and the door. "Yes, although as a beginner I'm a bit slow to cast the spell, so you'll have to sit here on the stoop and be patient. And quiet." He placed some emphasis on the last word.

'Anon grinned. "Oh, yeah. Sorcery. Wouldn't it serve the ol' bat right if we used the very stuff we were out celebrating to get in to the house. Hehehe. OK, you got it. Just don't take too long. I'm freezing my butt off out here."

"Just be quiet and don't distract me, is all I ask," Varees said, as he turned towards the door. Taking a few deep breaths, he began the for him rather time consuming process of going into Clara.

----------------------------------------------------

"Serale and welcome back, Master Har'ethwyn," said the vysstichi, looking up with a smile from the paperwork on his desk. It was obvious that, whatever he thought of his job or this current student, Danvan much preferred teaching him to adding up figures and reading reports. "I trust you've rested up and aren't still too fatigued from your Unbinding yesterday? Some people wait a couple brightenings before continuing."

Varees should his head. "No, I'm fine. Thank you, Master Danvan."

"And did you get a chance to read any of the Primer? If so, what did you think?"

Varees considered saying something tactful, or even flattering, but remembered the teacher's glum manner as he drudged over the paperwork, and elected for honesty instead. "Well, it wasn't as intriguing as my Unbinding dream, but it did put me to sleep."

The vysstichi laughed, his teeth flashing white against his ebony skin. "Ha! I heard that! Well, it's too bad, though, because although slogging through that book isn't much fun, it is the best way to learn the concepts, which are important to grasp, especially if you plan to continue arcana past mere initation."

Their small talk aside, Danvan rose from his desk and pulled out a small lockbox. "We are now going to cast your first spell. One of the ones I imparted to you yesterday was Open. A self-explanatory spell, and we are going to give it a self-explanatory use."

He set the box down in front of Varees. "You will find that this box is locked, should you try to open it. Go ahead," he invited. Obligingly the student reached his hands towards the box and tried to open it. After a couple token tries, he decided that it was indeed locked.

"Alright now, you'll find that the most demanding and time-consuming part of spellcasting, as a beginning student, is meditation. You can't Focus the Essences you need to cast the spell, nor shape the weave, nor really do much of anything else, until you attain Clara. Now I want you to relax, clear your mind, and focus on something neutral, say this scuffed corner of my desk..."

Getting his mind to sit still when he was so excited and nervous was no mean feat.It had taken three tries, and the better part of twenty minutes to get into Clara, but having once been unbound there was no mystery as to when he had attained it. Once he was done with that, Focusing and Channeling, which he had read about in the Primer the evening before, and through which his teacher now walked him, turned out to be fairly easy, almost anti-climactically so. The only thing left was shaping the spell and releasing it.

"When you were unbound," commented Danvan, "I showed you Ara, the essences of Force you use to shape your sorcery spells, and also your Vis, the portion of you needed to start the weave that you add the Ara to. There's a term for that in actual weaving, I think, where you get the weave started with one method and then switch to another to make it bigger. I'm not sure. Anyway, you need to mix in a piece of your Vis to make the spell. That's called Arcalysis."

Trying to listen to Danvan and hold the weave in his head at the same time proved too taxing for his powers of concentration, and the elf fervently whispered an oath when the spell collapsed. The vysstichi simply laughed and had him start again.

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"How long does this take, Varees?" demanded 'Anon irritably. "This stoop is cold and hard on my butt."

"Hush" said Varees quietly, the weave coming together at last. 'Anon was fortunate that Danvan had made Varees practice this spell enough that he could cast it over some mild degree of distraction. Otherwise, he would have been in for a reprise of that awful half-candlemark in Danvan's office a cycle before. Once the spell was done, he released it. There was a distinct *snick*, followed by a slight creak as the door cracked open a finger's breadth or so. The Esh'lahier turned and looked down at the human sitting glumly at his feet. "We're in," he announced. "Quietly, now."

Perhaps concerned that this might actually be the last time he would see his friend alive, Varees helped 'Anon up and walked with him into the dark atrium.

[Varees Har'ethwyn]

The pair slipped furtively into the atrium. Edera had, perhaps on purpose, neglected to keep a peat fire going in the stove downstairs, so the inside of the house was little warmer than the outside, although they were at least out of the damp, cool mist. "Shut the door, Varees, I'll get the stove fired up," said 'Anon. The elf noted with some relief that he had, at least for the moment, the sense to keep his voice down.

"Don't you want to keep the door open until you get a light?" Varees asked. It was a fairly dubious prospect either way; it was an overcast, foggy darkening, so not much light was filtering in from outside, anyway, but there was still more, at least that the elf could see, than there would have been had he simply shut the door.

"No problem," muttered the human, who took a couple tentative steps into the murk and began to tap around on a wall. "I've got a...Oh, no!" he groaned. "She didn't!" He tapped around a bit more. "Oh, feth!" he cried, his voice rising inconveniently loud again. "That bi-"

"sshhhhh, ssssh! Quiet, 'Anon" hushed Varees desparately. Somehow, being inside the house made him feel more vulnerable to Edera's wrath rather than less so, as if he had entered the she-wolf's den.

The human fell quiet, in the gloom Varees could see his shoulders slump and his head droop, and his silhouette turned around, presumably to face him. "There's usually a lamp hanging right here," he explained, finally speaking more quietly, "and a match. But she's moved it."

"I can provide a light," offered Varees, "but once again you'll have to wait quietly for a few minutes."

Somewhere in the dark, 'Anon's voice sighed, and the elf could here a weight sliding down, probably into a chair. "Go ahead, I'll be quiet," his voice came wearily. Nodding, although the human probably couldn't see the gesture, Varees began to meditate and look for essences of force to focus on and channel.

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"Master Har'ethwyn, tell me the truth, are you afraid of the dark?"

Varees' golden eyes widened in surprise at the vysstichi's question. He had grown up in Har'oloth, after all. "Well, no, Master Danvan, not at all."

"I mean complete darkness, like you have in mines when there are no lights at all?"

The Esh'lahier nodded, trying very hard not to be insulted by the question. "Yes, sir, I grew up in the Second House, you know."

Pointing this out earned Varees the satisfaction of watching his teacher slap his black forehead with his hand. "Of course, yes, you told me that. I beg your pardon. I'll take that as a definite 'Yes' then. In that case, here we go."

The master snapped his fingers, and instantly the strange white-walled, black-gridded room went completely black. Probably unncessarily, Varees raised his hand right in front of his face. He could not see it, even after several moments. When he lowered his hands again, he could see two glowing red eyes looking at him. "Yes, my student," the master's dusky voice confirmed, sounding somewhat amused, "it is completely dark in here, except for my eyes, of course, and I could fix that." The eyes vanished. Danvan had no doubt closed them.

"Actually, it's not so bad; if I had remembered earlier that you grew up in Har'oloth, I would have done this as your first spell. Darkness can actually make it easier to go into clara for mages who aren't psychologically disturbed by darkness. Speaking of which, your next spell will be -can you guess?"

Varees grinned, wondering in spite of knowing better whether the vysstichi could see it. "Sphere of Light, I would imagine?" he answered. The question was rhetorical.

"Yup. Go ahead and meditate. One thing you'll notice is that you'll 'see' the essences even in the dark, but they won't give any light in the conventional sense..."

Danvan, of course, was right on all counts. Sitting in the darkness made it easy to concentrate on achieving clara, and the Esh'lahier did so relatively quickly. The essences, once Varees was in Clara, seemed to shimmer and glow, and yet there was not the faintest reflection of light off the nearby walls. In a way, it made the elf feel as if he were not in a small cave, but floating in a vast void, with the lights of the essences radiating off into infinite space. It occured to him that, in a sense, that was actually the case, for the essences he was seeing were in the Astral Plane, and not really enclosed in this material cage of black-and-white painted rock his and Danvan's bodies occupied.

With that thought he remembered to Focus the shimmering essences of force and to Channel them into this world, into the actual room, whereupon he mixed those essences with his Vis and shaped the spell according to the appropriate weave his master had imparted to him.

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Relieved that no pair of red eyes had appeared to distract him this time, either, Varees released the Sphere of Light spell, and a soft, orangish light about the intensity of a candle appeared in the air in front of him. 'Anon, the oval of his face ruddy in the light, blinked at the sphere. "Wow!" he whispered, impressed. He sat there admiring the light for a moment, then suddenly remembered that he was supposed to be finding another, more conventional light. He rummaged around the small atrium area and around the stove for a bit, triumphantly recovered a wick and a match. Within a few minutes, he had lit some peat in the small stove, and left its door open so that it provided some light in the room.

[Varees Har'ethwyn]

Had he not been so wrapped up in maintaining his Sphere of Light, Varees might have mused, as 'Anon fumbled with the wick, that letting the intoxicated human play with fire in the dark might not have been the safest prospect. But this seemed to be one case where luck was with the two, and soon there was a merry, warm fire in the stove without any mishaps.

"So how long does that spell last?" asked 'Anon conversationally.

"For as long as I concentrate on it," answered Varees. And that won't be much longer if you keep pestering me, he completed mutely.

"Then I guess I'd better get a candle, as well," responded the human with a nod. A surprisingly cogent observation for one in his condition. He put the still-lit wick to a candle he fished out of a box on the floor next to the stove, then placed the candle into the wooden candlestick on the kitchen table. He sat down and peered once more at the magical light. "So it goes away when you tell it to?" he asked.

Varees nodded. Once he saw that the candlelight, combined with the glow from the stove, made his spell redundant, he let it fade away. Relaxing, the elf turned to look at his friend sitting at the kitchen table. He helped himself to the stool across from him. The days when Varees needed to be invited to have a seat at 'Anon's house were long past.

"The sphere does not exist by default," he explained, "it exists only as long as the magical weave that creates it is held together."

'Anon continued to stare in fascination at the now-empty spot where the sphere had been. "Can you make somebody else's magic light disappear like that?" he asked.

"Yes, but only within limits, and it's much trickier than simply letting one's own spell go." He paused a moment before going into an explanation of Dispelling, which was a vexed procedure he only barely understood himself. He paused another moment to ask himself why he was even trying to explain arcana concepts to a man who was probably just two goblets shy of a single-darkening drinking record. Because he asked you nicely, came the answers unbidden: because he is your friend; because it's an excuse to sit in front of a warm stove for a bit before going back out in the cold; because you like to talk; his eyes wandered to the door that led upstairs to the bedroom where Edera, doubtless still awake, lay in wait for her husband: because this may be the last time you ever see 'Anon alive he completed, only half-jokingly.

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"Weren't able to Open the box again after Locking it, eh?" asked Danvan, grinning knowingly as he took the small wooden box from his student. After their first lesson in spells, the vysstichi had given Varees the next brightening to practice, with the assignment of Opening, Locking, and then re-Opening the box. The first two spells had gone smoothly enough. The third hadn't, leaving the rather embarrassed Esh'lahier to return to his teacher the next brightening with a stubbornly locked box.

"No, unfortunately I wasn't," Varees admitted ruefully. "I was hoping you could watch me try it again and tell me what I had done wrong."

Danvan shook his head as he examined the box appraisingly. "I think you wedged something in the mechanism when you cast the Lock spell. You probably can't get it open with your spell anymore, although I could. There's another way, though, and perhaps we can try it, although it's tricky and I usually wait until a student has had more practice to teach it."

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"Want some tea?" offered 'Anon abruptly.

Before Varees could answer, the human pushed back from the table and made to get up. He stumbled and nudged the table hard, causing the candle to wobble ominously for a moment before miraculously righting itself again.

"Let me get it," offered the Esh'lahier. He had been to the house countless times, and so already knew pretty much where everything in the kitchen was. He rose and got the ceramic tea kettle down from its nail, shaking it and noting with satisfaction both the weight and the sloshing sound it made. Edera's spite had at least not extended to dumping out the tea; hopefully she hadn't poisoned it. He placed the kettle on the stovetop, which was now starting to get hot. He and 'Anon both liked their tea strong, so there was no need to boil additional water.

The tea kettle on, he sat down carefully at the table once more. "As I was saying," he resumed, "Dispel is tricky."

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"You know that weaving spells is complicated," said Danvan, "think of how much more complicated it is to un-weave them. It's like trying to untangle a bunch of knots somebody else tied. Unless the knots are familiar to you, or relatively simple, it's near impossible to pull them apart. That's why you'll only be able to dispel spells cast by one of your own level -meaning an initiate- and generally only have consistent luck with spells of your own sphere. Do you understand so far?"

Varees nodded. "Yes, I think so."

"Good," said Danvan. Looking at the locked box, he fell silent, seeming to grow slightly absent. A few seconds later, the box opened. "I just dispelled your spell," he announced. "Now, I want you to try it. Cast Lock on the box, then dispel your own spell."

The vysstichi handed the box back to the esh'lahier, who sat gazing at it for several minutes as he worked to achieve Clara. This was starting to become a bit easier for him now. Once he could see the essences of force, he focused them and then channeled them into his world, weaving them into the weave of the Lock spell.

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"-so, wait," interjected 'Anon, "you know how to Lock doors magically, too?" He looked over to the door leading upstairs and snickered. "Could you-"

Varees' eyes widened when he realized where his friend's drunken mind was going. "No," he declared finally. It was a declaration of intent, of course, not of ability. The Lock spell was actually quite easy to cast.

The human deflated slightly. "Bah, you're no fun," he muttered.

There was a moment of sullen silence, broken only by the first sizzlings and hissings of the tea in the pot starting to heat up.

Varees decided to resume his explanation of Dispelling, there being little better to do at the moment. At least it would help kill time and keep 'Anon relatively quiet.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

After Varees had released the Lock spell he tested the box to make sure that it was, in fact, shut. "One thing I meant to ask, Master," he said, as he pried at the lid with is long, thin, pale fingers, "are all the effects of spells permanent, unless undone?"

"Ah, no," replied Danvan, "Many spells only have an effect while there is a mana weave to sustain them. Sphere of Light is such a spell. You will be practicing that here presently."

Varees mused a moment on the implications of this. "So in the case of such spells I wouldn't have to dispel my own Sphere of Light? It would just go away on its own?"

Danvan nodded. "Yes. As to knowing which effects are permanent and and which are temporary, a combination of experience and an understanding of theory will help you out with that. You would also need to understand the difference between persistent effects caused by an arcanic weave, and purely physical effects left behind by a spell. For example, the damage a fireball makes persists after the spell is gone, so you can't dispel it, although you could in principle dispell a fireball before it does any damage at all."

Seeing his student's puzzlement, the vysstichi shrugged. "I told you it was complicated."

------------------------------------------------------------------------

"-so, wait, you can make fireballs now?"

Varees sighed. 'Anon's wine-impaired powers of concentration were simply not up to the task of listening patiently or with comprehension to an explanation of Dispel.

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Varees concentrated and concentrated on the locked box, trying with his arcanic vision to find some loose thread in the arcanic weave to pull apart, to unravel. Yet the threads he found either didn't seem to move at all, or to pull the knot even tighter. Eventually his frustration grew to great and he simply dropped out of clara.

"I'm afraid I can't do it, Danvan," he admitted, voice edged in exasperation.

The old vysstichi simply nodded calmly. "I told you it was difficult, and that I normally don't introduce the technique until near the end of the training. It will be easier, I think, once you've had a bit more practice, and are familiar with more spells. Don't worry, Varees. I'm not going to let you graduate without getting this right."

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"Why can't you make fireballs, then?" asked 'Anon, his mind obviously on fireballs for some reason. Varees glared at him in the candlelight, wondering whether it was worth it to explain the scope of the various spheres of magic.

The tea kettle emitted a sharp hiss. Grateful for any interloper (with the possible exception of Edera deciding to come down at that particular moment) Varees stood up. "Tea's almost ready," he announced. "I'll get the cups."

[Varees Har'ethwyn]

Varees looked in the cupboard and fished out two cups that were not cracked, chipped nor dirty. Edera, whatever her other liabilities, was a conscientious housekeeper, so the Esh'lahier actually had a few options in this regard. If 'Anon had still been a bachelor they would probably have had to drink straight out of the kettle. It was bad enough that he insisted on reheating already-brewed tea the way he did. It left the tea tasting bitter, and by reheating habitually in the same pot he ensured that even fresh tea would end up with the same acrid flavor. Edera had a matching kettle she always kept clean, and which she strictly forbade 'Anon to use, for precisely this reason.

The tea was nearly hot enough to pour when the question came again: "So why can't you cast fireballs?" 'Anon persisted.

"Because," the elf explained, "there are different types of essences one uses for different types of magic, and the types of essences you use for fireballs aren't the same ones you use for sorcery."

Whether he understood the answer or not, 'Anon nodded to signal that he had accepted it. "So what kind of essences does sorcery use?" he asked, "and why'd you go for that instead of fireballs?"

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"I am Master Danvan," greeted the vysstichi, as Varees returned to the Academy on the appointed brightening. "I understand you wish to be initiated into the basics of sorcery?" The mage's white eyebrows rose along with the cadence of his voice.

"Yes, Master Danvan," the Esh'lahier responded, carefully repeating both title and name.

"Would you care to tell me why you are interested in sorcery? Do you know what it is? Or are you just taking it because we don't actually offer Elementalism."

With an amused twinkle in his red eyes as he said this, Danvan glanced meaningfully at the two awkward, poorly-complected youths who were currently having an angry exchange with Bandarion.

"What do you mean you don't offer Elementalism?" one of them demanded, his voice cracking in adolescent outrage. "It's there on the sign!"

"It's a....mistake," the young vysstichi said through gritted teeth. He was getting *really* tired of having to explain this. Why didn't they fix the fething sign so that he wouldn't keep having to deal with all these zit-ridden dweebs with fireball fetishes?

"A mistake?" exclaimed the other youth, his voice similarly cracked in pitch.

"But we wanted to cast fireballs! So you're saying we can't learn that here?"

Bandarion, who was going to kill somebody if he had to speak another word, simply closed his eyes and shook his head.

"Well, that bites!" the first exclaimed. Then the second uttered, in a tone indicating that he was laying the worst imaginable curse upon the D'Rinishad Academy of Arcana: "You guys SUCK!".

First the tragic incident with Garyg'ygax, and now this. Life was so unfair! And their parents probably wouldn't give them the money to buy K'tesh lessons, either.

"There's Mysticism," the second one pointed out. "You could learn to turn invisible, or Assume Gaseous Form. Do you guys actually offer Mysticism?"

Bandarion, still refusing to speak, nodded. Go ahead, he thought. If you want to die, ask me if its true that you can attack people while staying invisible.

The first one shook his head. "No psionics," he said firmly.

"It wouldn't be psionics, though, it'd be more like being an Enchanter or some-"

"No psionics in our campaign!" the first one insisted with finality.

The second shrugged. "OK, dude. You're the Dungeon Master."

"C'mon, let's go to the Elegant Blades," suggested the first youth at last. "Let's see if they have any katanas."

"Yeah, katanas! Maybe some with adjuration runes on 'em and stuff! Vampire slayers!"

As the two youths left, Danvan looked back at Varees. It was clear he hadn't forgotten his own question. Fortunately, neither had his prospective student, who was suppressing an amused smile with only partial success. "I suppose," he said, "that I see it as a way of complementing my strengths. I am no warrior or athlete. My strength is more in my mind, I think."

"You think?" Danvan said, looking the willowy Esh'lahier up and down meaningfully.

"Well, yes, of course. And a mind is a wonderful, powerful tool that can do many things. But one thing that minds cannot do well is deliver matter, energy, physical motion where they are needed. Unless one happens to be a sorceror."

Danvan pursed his lips. "That sounds lazy. Couldn't you just go to the Fitness and Bones to get trained up physically?"

That was a fair question, and one Varees was prepared for, having thought about it himself. "I could still do so. And perhaps I shall. But I don't see myself ever becoming a great martial artist."

"Oh! So you want greatness?" challenged Danvan, a hint of mockery in his voice.

Varees did not let himself get rattled or deterred by this. A figurative little bird had warned him to be prepared for such treatment in his initial interview. The mysticism teacher, supposedly, was much worse. "Of course I want greatness, if by greatness you mean something like excellence, though I wouldn't necessarily turn down aggrandizement, either" he said, quietly and matter-of-factly. "If I wanted to attain nothing more than mediocrity, then I am certain that I would be able eventually to achieve *that* in the martial arts."

Danvan's eyes brightened, and his teeth flashed as he laughed. "Well answered, then, I suppose. Would it be fair to say that you wish to leverage your strengths and compensate your weaknesses by studying sorcery?"

"Yes, Master, something like that."

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"So, if you can't cast fireballs, what else can you do?" asked 'Anon. "I know you can lock and unlock doors and make lights. What else?"

Varees poured the tea from the kettle on the stove into the two cups, then brought them with him to the table. 'Anon liked lemon and sugar with his tea, but he would just have to do with out them tonight. The elf was in no mood to make any more noise than necessary rummaging in the kitchen with Edera seething just a few stairs and a thin door away.

"I can cast a spell called Deflect, which can keep projectiles from hitting you," he started.

"So why didn't you stop my damn wife from hitting me with a shoe," observed 'Anon accusingly.

Varees shook his head. "You've seen how long it takes for me to cast a spell. As a beginner, I'm afraid the only way I would be able to stop somebody from hitting me with a thrown object is if they gave me advanced notice."

"Doesn't sound very useful," mumbled 'Anon dismissively as he raised his teacup close to his face, trying to figure out if the tea had cooled off enough to drink. Deciding after a moment that it wasn't, he blew on it, then set the cup back down.

"So what other spells can you cast?"

"Well, there's one called Star of Force..."

"That sounds cool. Can you show me?"

Varees shook his head. "That would probably be a bad idea."

"Coward!"

------------------------------------------------------------------------

"The Star of Force Spell uses the mana shaping technique of conjuration," explained Danvan, "which is used to bring about a novel manifestation of whatever your essence is in a particular location, to concentrate it, make it take a new form. Do you understand?"

"I remember conjuration," said Varees.

"Ah, good, so you've been using your Primer for something other than target practice for your Force Bolt spells, after all."

"I thought you said you wanted me to practice?" asked Varees, grinning.

"Right, well, if you use your Primer as target practice for this spell, you could end up actually destroying it -and don't grin like that when I say that! The cost of your tuition only covers one copy."

Danvan pulled a pumpkin out of seemingly nowhere and placed it on the table between them. He then stepped to the side. Well to the side.

"Scoot your chair back the way you did when we practiced Force Bolt, then cast Star of Force at the pumpkin."

The elf complied, and a few minutes later, he was in Clara. With simple spells, the names of the shaping techniques weren't terribly important; one just cast the spell the way it was imparted, with a general sense that one was altering or conjuring. Danvan had warned him, however, that it was important "if you ever want to rise above 'mediocrity' as you yourself put it" to acquire a strong grasp of the shaping techniques now. It would greatly simplify his advancement later.

The essences coalesced into a shimmering sliver of energy just above his hand. It did look a bit like a throwing star, Varees thought, as he conjured the weave. When he released it, it sailed at the pumpkin and punched a hole right through it.

"Now all pumpkins must tremble in fear of Initiate Sorceror Varees Har'ethwyn," announced Danvan with an ironic smile.

[Varees Har'ethwyn]

'Anon started to yawn, then stifled it and tried his tea again to see if it was cool enough to drink. "So how d'you know all those spells?" asked 'Anon, taking a trial sip. "Are they hard? Lot of reading and memorization and stuff?"

Varees shook his head, watching his friend's reaction to the tea before hazarding a sip from his own cup. The temperature was fine, but unfortunately the taste was every bit as bitter and tannic as he had feared. He wondered idly if 'Anon's insides weren't as browned as the inside of that wretched pot on the stove.

"Actually learning the spells," he explained, "or at least becoming acquainted with them, is a simple matter of having them magical imparted to you by a master. Learning how to cast them takes some coaching and practice, however."

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"Well, you seem to have had better luck with your Locking and Opening the Box this time, eh?" asked Danvan, as he took the small box from his student and opened it with his dark nimble fingers.

Varees nodded. Danvan had had him practice the round of open-lock-open one more brightening. It was now the third brightening since his unbinding. "I suppose practice makes perfect," he said, more to make conversation than to point out anything informative. He winced inwardly a bit when he realized how cliche it sounded, but Danvan simply nodded approvingly. Apparently he saw no fault in cliches, nor in his pupil's progress.

"It does, indeed," he agreed. "But it is trying new, unfamiliar things that makes us progress. I am now going to impart some more spells for you like I did yesterday."

Varees tensed slightly. "Will I have another Unbinding dream or something?" he asked.

The vysstichi grinned. "Why was the first one that bad?" He looked at his own hand and waggled his fingers. "Perhaps I am losing my touch. No, this is just Imparting. Perhaps I didn't explain the distinction clearly enough. Unbinding is a one-shot deal. Once you can achieve clara, there's no need to do it over each time you learn a spell. I assure you the process is quite innocuous. So please relax, and clear your mind."

Reassured, the young Eshlahier relaxed, and waited for the vysstichi to extend his hand towards him. After a moment or two he felt an odd sensation, something or somethings itching in his head. Then the feeling past, and the teacher lowered his hand and looked at his student. "You will find that you know four additional spells now. You will learn their names and their uses as we go along."

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"So that's it. He just touches your forehead and bam! you know the names and forms of four spells?" asked 'Anon. It wasn't clear whether he was just getting drowsy and having trouble following what his friend was telling him, or whether he thought Varees was pulling his leg.

Varees shrugged. "I suppose you could put it that way. It is magic, you know."

The human muttered a vaguely dissatisfied *hmph* as he took another sip of his tea. The truth was, the answer didn't quite satisfy Varees, either; however, he didn't know of a better one. Danvan had offered none.
As he put the cup down again, 'Anon seemed to think of something that cheered him up, and looked at the elf's face with a briefly-renewed brightness.

"Could you impart any of those spells to me?" he asked hopefully.

Varees shook his head, and 'Anon's expression faded back into dull drowsiness. "Why not?" he asked sullenly.

"First of all, I think only a master can Impart," the elf offered. "Second of all, there's something else that would need to happen first, and I can't do that for you, either: You'd have to be Unbound."

'Anon shot his friend an irritable glance as if he thought Varees were just making up new rules to be difficult. "Unwhat?"

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"The concept of planes is a bit difficult to explain," said Danvan, as he gestured the Esh'lahier to sit down, "as it is almost by definition outside our everyday experience. The Astral plane is not quite a place, certainly not a different *space*." The teacher raised his hands in a bit of helplessness. "You might say it's a different mapping of reality. But that is a matter for philosophers, and we are here to learn the practice of an art.

"Now, in order to practice this art, you must be able to see and access the essences on the Astral plane. Beings born on Telath are born Bound to this plane, and must be 'Unbound' in order to tap into other ones. The process of Unbinding does not take long, but it does entail some vague risk. One is, after all, literally loosening one's grip, particularly one's mental grip, upon reality as most people know it."

Varees' snowy brow wrinkled. "You're saying I could go mad?" he asked.
Danvan nodded. "It is a small chance, but it can and does happen on rare occasions. That is one of the reasons it is unwise to unbind somebody too young, or too unstable to start with. I tell you this, of course, because I would be remiss to do otherwise, not to frighten you. Do you wish to continue?"

"If I go mad, at least I hope someone will notice the difference," the Esh'lahier muttered to himself. Raising his voice so his teacher could understand him, he said: "Yes, I am prepared to take that risk. I was vaguely warned of such by others who practice the art before."

Danvan nodded thoughtfully. "Then we shall begin. Unbinding is basically a dream state. You will basically go to sleep, more or less. Everybody's vision is different, so I cannot tell you what it will be like, but I warn you it can be quite intense. Even people not driven mad by the experience are sometimes simply so upset by it that they find it difficult to continue."

The sorceror smiled ruefully. "And having said that, I now need you to relax."

Doing his best, Varees took some deep breaths, shook out the tension in his muscles, closed his eyes, and tried to clear his mind. Danvan reached forward and touched the Esh'lahier's white forehead with his black fingers.

Varees to his annoyance found his mind wandering. Right now he was picturing the morning mists outside the city walls. He tried to tell himself to clear his mind of that, that he needed to concentrate, but the mists remained obstinately there. In fact, the more he tried to empty his mind, the more aggressively the mists seemed to encroach on it. He imagined he was standing just outside the walls, perhaps at one of the gates; he couldn't tell; the scenery was too non-descript and generic here.

The mists drifted and swirled around him, engulfed him, and obscured his view of anything else. Light faded, sounds faded, scents faded, the feeling of weight upon his feet faded in the mist. He was in a thick fog, now, feeling isolated as if he occupied his own private cloud-world. He felt a slight wrench in his gut, as one might were one in a cart or on a horse that had suddenly changed direction. It was smoother than that, though.

The mist had grown quite thick around him, but now it began to flow upwar