Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 121339 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 607(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121339 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 607(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
“Oh,” he said again, waving her away. “My order can see magic the wielder is trying to hide.”
“But I’m…not trying to hide it. I mean, I don’t know how.”
“You clearly do, since you clearly are.”
“You don’t seem to have the mind power to grasp what I am telling you,” she said, and his frown became a scowl. She barely stopped herself from smiling. “I don’t know that I am hiding it. I must be doing it unconsciously. How can I learn to do it consciously?”
He busied himself with the scrolls at the side of his desk. “Let us see. Now, how much do you know about the crystal chalice magic?”
She paused beside one of the piles on a chair.
“Oops, let me clear that away for you.” He scooped up the scrolls and dumped them on the floor behind the chair.
“Great,” she drawled before explaining all she knew. It didn’t take long, given she knew very little.
“And you made a binding deal?” he asked.
“Is there another kind?”
He narrowed his eyes in thought. “No.” He tapped the feather portion of the quill to his lips. “You have a very succinct explanation of what you are. Expected, with a human’s limited range of thought. Let me elaborate and hope it sinks in.”
It was her turn to scowl. He didn’t think much of humans in general.
It soon became apparent that it wouldn’t be the court games that tucked her into her final resting place. It wouldn’t be facing the Obsidian kingdom’s royals or the gods or godlike power. It would be sheer boredom. When he was done, she wondered if he’d magically kept her awake. There could be no other explanation.
“So, you see, you are so much more than a conduit for magic. You are an actual vessel, my dear. You can store magic for up to…oh…five turns, I should think. Even magic as robust as Tarian used to possess. But—and here is the danger—you do not, yourself, create magic. You steal it.”
She blinked, coming out of her drooling stupor. “What?”
His eyes startled to sparkle. “Ah, yes, now we are doing more than just absorbing. We are listening! Yes, you can steal magic. You steal from the magic wielder and house it in your vessel to be used at a later time. When you take it, you deplete their magic. Say you steal just a fraction—they will only become a fraction weaker. Steal it all, and they will die of magiclessness. Do you see?”
She turned that over in her head. “Not about the last part. If a fae loses all their magic, they die?”
“Magic here exists within the fae—”
“I thought it came from Faerie?”
He beamed. “Yes! My goodness, you are a credit to your kind. It comes from Faerie, and Faerie is in us all. We are the very fabric of Faerie, living and breathing. Eating and pooping. We draw on Faerie for our magic, and it draws on us for survival. We are connected. All of us. Everything. If you were to siphon away all the magic of a fae or creature, it would take the fabric of the being with it. It would take their life’s breath, and the empty shell would fall.”
Her heart leapt at the possibility. At the thought that maybe she’d have more of an arsenal than a fae. “So…I can kill fae with this magic.”
He paused. “Is that any different from what you can do with your knives?”
She frowned at him. “Easier, I imagine, right?”
He held up a finger. “Maybe.”
“Oh good. I was worried I wouldn’t get straight answers when I came here.”
He walked to the bookcase on his left. The fourth shelf held nothing but scrolls, some rolled, many not. He reached into them.
“It is not as easy as simply taking magic. You have to be sly, like an actual thief. If they sense you depleting them, they will react like all creatures you are trying to kill—they will defend themselves urgently and ardently. They will usually react violently. You can then wither their magic, but they will still possess it, and—”
“Wither means nullify, right?”
“—therefore still have—yes, keep up, please—still have their magic. Then they can overpower you. In a regular fight, like with fists or knives, they might be content to wound you and walk away. If you are caught depleting their magic, however, their instinct will be to kill or be killed. Getting caught will almost always become a fight to the death. Yours…or theirs.”
She barked out a laugh. “So just a normal day in the life of a Chester, huh?”
He paused in rummaging through the scrolls. “A…chezzure?”
“Never mind. What happens when my vessel’s capacity is full?”
A section of the scrolls toppled over on top of him, cascading to the ground. He froze, then looked down at his feet. “What a mess.”
Her eyes widened as she looked around at everything else. That was a mess, but the rest wasn’t?