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abstracted and drew conclusions, but with little information and Crisal's inexperience, the future
was hidden. The past, however, was clear. Fyx had no desire for an apprentice; Fyx wanted Crisal's
eyes the eyes of a fortune teller. Again she moved beside the old man.
"Fyx."
The magician shook his head. "What is it now, pest?"
"What will happen when we reach Ikona?"
"I'm no fortune teller, Crisal. Haven't you consulted your ball?"
Crisal frowned. "Have you eyes in the back of your head, old man?"
Fyx cackled. "No, child, no. But, I can turn my head without moving my hood."
Crisal smiled, then shook her head. "I see nothing past our present footsteps, Fyx. My glass did
tell me you wanted me for your eyes, and not as an apprentice. Explain."
Fyx frowned, darted a glance at the girl, then looked ahead. Then, looking down, he cackled. "Your
eyes see guilt in me?"
"Aye. That, and fear and sadness."
The magician nodded. "Rogor, the one called black and dark, he is my brother, Amanche. I learned
this years ago from the Great Tayla."
"She is my mother's mother, which you knew."
"Aye, that is true. You also know of my brother Dor-stan's death?"
"Bianice mentioned it."
Fyx nodded. "Dorstan was better than any of us. The exercise with the feather, the first time he
lifted it from the table and held it for half a minute." Crisal saw Fyx's eyes moisten. "He was
quick and all of us knew he would be a master before either I or Amanche perfected our simplest
drills. Amanche was jealous with an envy and hatred that knew no bounds. Then one day, Dorstan was
found dead."
"How?"
Fyx shrugged. "Amanche told Vassik that Dorstan had challenged him and that his magic was the more
powerful of the two. He expected praise, but Vassik threw him before the town of Tieras for
judgment. He was exiled to the desert.
Tayla the fortune teller heard the story once and concluded that Dorstan had been poisoned."
"There was no magic, then?"
Fyx stopped and faced Crisal. "Child, there is no magic. This one who calls himself Rogor did not
use magical powers against my brother Dorstan, because no such powers exist!"
Crisal's face wrinkled in confusion. "But, Fyx, I myself have heard you call upon spirits in
performance..."
"The act, child. The act. Ever since chance brought our ancestors to Momus on the circus ship
Bamboo, magicians have had but one trade: to entertain. We do the possible and make it appear to
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be the impossible. As part of the illusion that we do magic, we burn incense, call upon mythical
beings and spirits, mutter nonsense incantations, roll our eyes, wave wands all to create an aura
of mystery. We take that doubt that rests in all of us, that things may not be as they appear,
magnify it, and walk home with our purses full of movills."
"But, what about the feather? This is not magic?"
"No more than your fortune teller's eyes. When you see the future, do you use magic?"
"Of course not. Things in motion take certain paths. If you know the path up to the present, it
takes no magic to see where a thing will go in the future."
The old man nodded. "But, child, this power of the fortune tellers seems to be magic to those who
do not understand it."
Crisal nodded. "Only the fortune tellers have this power. But what powers do magicians have?"
Fyx shook his head. "Many have the powers of magicians and fortune tellers, child, but only few
train their powers. You are of the fortune tellers, yet you rocked the feather. I can see enough
of the future to have sense enough to step out of the path of a falling rock. A trained magician
can confuse the minds of others, or even put them to sleep as I did to you our first night on the
road."
Crisal frowned. "I can get to sleep under my own power, Fyx. That does not explain the feather."
"With the magician's extra pair of hands, objects can be moved. The best card tricks are aided in
that manner. Someday you will be able to put pictures in the minds of others or make time seem to
pass very slowly for them. You will
be practicing your "trade, but others will think it magic."
Crisal nodded and they continued their walk down the road. "A few things are explained then, Fyx.
Are there other powers?"
"You shall learn of them in good time." Crisal turned her head toward the old man. "The fear I
read in your face is it that Rogor plays upon your own doubts of dark powers?"
Fyx nodded. "I cannot reconcile what I know with what
I feel. Rogor is never seen and no one knows the location
of his lair. Yet, he destroys entire crops at will and is said
to cause illness and death by wishing it. Are there dark
powers that serve Rogor? I cannot prove that there aren't."
"But, the guilt, Fyx; why do I see guilt?"
"You are of the Tarzak. fortune tellers, Crisal. That I
should become an agent to you betraying your tradition..."
"That's not it! You think me stupid because I am young." [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]