Diagrams of lips and lungs, lines and arrows over parchment superimposed on the square and phoenix, spilled over his desk or were gummed onto the stone walls. Boradi, the younger aide, entered with Tebro’s evening meal. He looked around at the charts. “Master Tebro?”
“Yes? What do you want, Boradi?” Tebro’s voice was tired, but he kept his focus on a table of syllables which he was attempting to complete.
“There is news of Stone Harbor,” said the young aide.
“You mean from Stone Harbor, don’t you?” said Tebro.
“No, master. We have reports from scouts. Shortly after we left, the goblins…”
“Goblins?” Tebro turned in his seat, looking quizzically over his shoulder at Boradi.
“It is what the scout called the creatures. They sealed off the entrance to the mountains and set a guard on the valley and harbor.”
“Stop, Boradi.” Tebro turned back to his work and spoke to his young aide without facing him, “Did I not say that under no circumstances was I to be told the outcome of the attack?”
“Not exactly, master, you…”
“It is a distraction. I must not be distracted if I am to complete my work in time. Please, Boradi, your job is to keep distraction from me.”
“Yes, of course master Tebro.” Boradi again looked at the charts and diagrams as he entered the room with the dinner tray.
“Your esteemed uncle,” Boradi said hurriedly, “once found system in breaking the incantations into pieces as it seems you are attempting to do with the words themselves.”
Tebro said nothing, so the aide continued, “If I may be so bold as to suggest, perhaps he could find the system here. You should see him.” Boradi set the meal down on the table and cleared away the remains of the previous.
“Thank you, Boradi,” Tebro said tiredly, “that will be all.”
“Master Tebro…”
Tebro turned suddenly in his chair, his voice rose, lamplight glinted in his eyes, “Go away, Boradi!” Boradi turned and ran out of the room.
Tebro scratched at his arm. He felt pinpricks in his fingers, aftereffects of the gnome air. He looked back down at his chart. The regularity that had hovered on the edge of his consciousness was gone. He sighed as he went to his bed and sat on its edge, pulling off his boots. He lay back on the bed. Perhaps Boradi is right, he thought, it might take me years to work out the proper system, even with an apprentice… which I don’t have. If I go to Genro now, though, he will ask me to write his history, and I can’t do that. I have to stop his final death. I have to find a way to save his existence. He sat up and put his boots on again, gathered up the most complete of his new charts. I will just have to be firm. He left his study and started down the tower to the room where his uncle lay, weak in his last months.
Tebro listened at the door. He heard the sound of his uncle’s voice, but could not make out the words. He knocked. The sound stopped and seconds later the door was opened by Tebro’s older aide, Dor. Again Tebro felt regret that Dor had not displayed the capacity for apprenticeship.
“Master Tebro, please… please come in. Master Genro will be delighted.” Dor stood aside and beckoned Tebro in.
Genro was as tall as Tebro, and even more slender and especially frail in his decline. He was propped up with pillows into a reclined sitting position. His huge but neatly trimmed beard covered the top quarter of the blanket. He smiled broadly when he saw Tebro.
“My dear nephew… hello. It’s good to see you. I heard that you had some business at Home. How are your esteemed parents?” Genro’s voice was still strong, although not the powerful basso of his prime.
“I did not have the opportunity to see them, master Genro.”
“Ah, well, that is much what I had expected. Do please look them up next time you are there. My sister, she will be following me in a few short years, and your father not long after that.” Genro smiled again to take the sting out of his words. “Sit with me. Tell me about your work.”
Tebro launched into his theory, explained how the syllables of incantation were not random, that they reflected the gestures, and that careful study of both might lead to the construction of other spheres of magical influence. He attempted to show Genro his notes, but Genro gently pushed them aside.
“It’s no longer my concern, young Tebro.”
Not so young, Tebro thought, as he pictured himself old and helpless on the same bed.
“You will find an apprentice,” Genro said, “and together the two of you will find the system. Or together you will prove that there does not exist such a system. You were more help than you realize in the construction of the square and phoenix.” A twinkle came into Genro’s eye. “It might all be random, you know. We might be looking for order where there isn‘t any.”
Tebro looked at his uncle, speechless.
“Hah,” Genro laughed, “I suppose I am getting heretical in my old age.” He looked stern for once. “That’s my prerogative. I’m glad, in a way, that Dor is writing my history. You would pretty it up.”
Tebro was now speechless and hurt. Genro put out his hand and touched Tebro on the arm, smiled once again and said, “Wizards usually don’t have time for a family. I know that. I know that better than most. You might try though.” He sat back on the bed. “Let’s pick up where we left off, Dor. Tebro, you are welcome to stay, if you would like.”
Tebro found his voice, “No. No, uncle," Tebro paused, stood, and said, "I will not accept that this is inevitable. I will find the magic for the soul. I will not let you die!” It was Genro’s turn now to be speechless. His eyes widened as he looked at his nephew, who was now pacing the floor. Tebro punctuated his words with gestures in the air. “It is absurd that a person should be annihilated, that you should be annihilated, ashes thrown on the mountains!”
“Tebro, stop,” Genro pleaded, “my work is done, my history will pass onto my family, to you. I am tired, boy. Let me rest.”
Tebro had stopped pacing, a shiver shook his body. “You will see. You will get your drive back with your energy. I will make you young again. You’ll see!” Tebro left the room quickly, shut the door behind him, and ran up to his study to pour himself into the work.
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