And put to use I was! Never had I ever thought in my life that I would have been doing physical labour at any point, but so it happened, cleaning of all things. Cleaning the somehow hundred-floor, maze-like contraption of a tower inhabited by the ruler of a city and an Archmage of all things. The master of Galel Ikash, Ilai Aomen, had left for the capital to meet the king and the Apprentice worked as my taskmaster and a teacher whilst filling in for the Archmage. Whenever Galel had time, he reluctantly taught me the language of the humans, Common, but other subjects were out of bound, because in his mind “others could teach the dallywhaps and knicknacks of the world, but as I and my master are the only ones capable of teaching you the language with ease, as none else can cast this magic here, that is on me.”
Never did he question why I did not know any known language, often pondering things aloud but ending up stating that it is not his business. It seemed like Archmage Aomen had forbidden any further inquiry to any aspect of my life.
Given a dusted-off servant’s uniform -- a bright-green gown and on top of it a tabard matching that of the guards -- I busied myself with work and studying. To my amusement, I found out that I enjoyed cleaning the common rooms, meeting halls, studies and what-nots. Every urn shined was a whole new world I took up with an absurd conviction, every window a task I tackled with all my might. Although at first, world without an eye looked dizzying and blurry, I quickly got used to it. Distances became easier to calculate and knocking things off rarer.
Alone with my tools of trade I wandered the tower freely, making sure every nook and cranny was in order. A daunting prospect, considering that the tower had a hundred floors, but I could only enter around nine of them, and I tried. Every place I got into I was allowed to be in, and supposed to clean, those were the orders. Locked doors or ones without any way to open them, long corridors just abruptly ending without any purpose to them, many a thing made my area of operations smaller.
The few magical items loitering around on pedestals in my area, I was allowed to fully dust off, or investigate as I took it. There weren’t many, but on the third floor a tiny treasury was open to me I spend more time in than I would care to admit. One object in particular caught my interest -- an orb held by a brassy hand. It was a staff of some sort, incredibly heavy, and although what Meister Sorenn did to me renewed every bit of my strength, I could barely lift it. The brass handle seemed to be just that, brass, albeit without any dent or impurity in it, but the orb in its grasp… at times it seemed to smile, others cry, sometimes glowing blue and other times pulsing black. After my experiences in the dungeon I could rarely feel any emotions, but things were different when close to the orb. It was as if it projected something into me or called something from within me. I tried my best to understand it but in vain, even Apprentice Galel having no answers or just not willing to say anything.
Only other people I saw were the guards and officials that often visited the lower floors of the tower, accompanied by Galel at all times. One time I was starting my day, putting my clothes on at my resting place, the room I woke up in a month ago, when one of those officials came in and rushed to talk to me. Most of what he said made no sense to me, but I quickly understood that he was trying to pry what was my role within the Tower of Iza, or the Monolith as he said.
“Not from around here,” he carefully dumbed down his language. “Servant? What do you do here?”
As was instructed, I gave no answer, just stared uninterested at this man in lavish clothes and ornate jewelry. It would be an understatement to say that he did not like it.
“Speak! I am … and a friend of Archmage Ilai and you. You can trust me! Say to me, why are you here! Worthless son of a …!”
A sharp sting on my cheek made me laugh, the man taking a step back and preparing to hit me again, this time with his fist. Grinning, I prepared to take the next hit on the chin.
“Enough!” Galil stepped in to the room and stood next to the entrance. He had behind him few others, officials and people of import, some amused and some perplexed of what was happening. Defeated, the man joined the rest and I was left to dress up.
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Later that day Galil, after our language class, visibly frustrated took a long and pained sigh. Nervously rolling a piece of lint with his fingers and flicking it off, he stood up to leave but stopped. We had managed to get to the point where he did not use the spell Comprehension, allowing one to understand and be understood by anyone capable of comprehending any one language, so when he cast it out of the blue it took me by surprise.
“Matters have become more complicated it seems,” he said, turning to face me. “Ilai will be returning soon, should be at least, and he is not in the least amused. Hmph! Anyways. Has plans for you, Jay, and in the meantime, Jay o’ Jay, wishes for me to teach you a bit more. More than I would care for. Hell, teaching magic to the uninitiated is like teaching a dog, well, magic. Makes as much sense! Understand? No! Of course you don’t! And that’s the problem. Just silently sitting there like always… mad, Jay, you’re mad… to your benefit.”
“Teach me,” I said, “teach me everything there is. I’ll do my best, try my hardest, anything it takes I’m ready.”
Galel scoffed at me as he tugged on his red, long hair. “That’s not up to me, and if it was, you wouldn’t get anything. But alas, I’ll teach you. Like the language, you’ll learn fast, but that is not it. I can see it, you crave power and nothing more. Why you, why Jay, I have asked time and again but no, he won’t tell. Pearls to swine!” Rambling on and on, eventually the Apprentice shook his head for the final time and began his lecture.
Starting with the basics, or what should have been if the knowledge would have been more widely known, he introduced me in our first class to the concept of the Weave. As Ilai had taught him and he later understood on his own, all magic is the same. All magic works the threads that are created and repaired by the goddess of magic, Mystra. From that, he explained, comes the concept of spellweaving. “To speak out Truth to alter reality,” that is magic in essence. Words, he also explained are not always required. The heavier the burden is for the threads that lie in the background of the world we know, the heavier the cost must be.
Whether it be the servants of gods who call upon and borrow the power of their deities, or sorcerers who found their inner power of casting through unexpected or hereditary means, or the magicians who meticulously study the methods and components of how to work the Weave, every spell affects it the same. Still, not everyone could interact with the Weave through their bodies and minds, although many magical items still could be used by them, and even in those who could slight differences lay.
“Then how adept am I to interact with the threads,” I asked, curious how far would I be able to go, but in my earnestly I was me with laughter, an unusual spectacle when it came to Galel.
“How would I know,” the Apprentice said as he shook his head. “I only assumed you had some potential because of my orders! If you can in the first place then we should be good, how fast and how well, those are matters of character. How intelligent, hard-working, so on and so forth. Wise? No, not in the least, but good for you, wisdom doesn’t make the difference. Though the unwise end up killing themselves quite fast, but talent, that they do not lack.”
The lecture continued for a better part of the evening, staying within the history and theory of magic. To Galel the fact that I could recognize and understand words like spellweaver or enchantment from the get go were a source of endless amusement, so much so that he began at one point to throw out obscure terms and jargon just to test me. He couldn’t believe that I haven’t had any training beforehand, but straying true to himself, did not press on the matter. In the end, we stopped before going into alchemy as the Apprentice had other business to do.
“Now, never trust an alchemist,” Galel said as we were finishing, his high-pitched voice taking a more pressing and deep, still nasal, tone. “Turning lead into gold, transmuting elements into different ones, it’s all a facade. Yes yes, that is what they do and potions and the rest, all within the Weave and so on, but no. Most alchemists might even believe that that is what alchemy is, but no. No I say. Jay, listen to me closely. If there is anyone in this world or beyond in the other plains who wishes to become God, by any means necessary, it is the alchemist. All the speak of material transformation is a game, a parable, lie within a lie and its opposite. I’ve dabbled and dare I say that Archmage Ilai has more than dabbled, but still. Good to explore, necessary even, but better left alone -- lest you become a pawn in a game you cannot understand, turned into a blithering monster, or worse.”
So the first lecture about magic came to a halt and the words of the Apprentice echoed in my head. It became that much clearer, my calling. Power -- power called forth to take its path and I answered.