Sensing the prince’s impatience, Wigg continued. “The craft is divided into two parts, or schools of thought, if you will. The first is called the Vigors. This is the beneficent side of the craft, and requires great selflessness and sacrifice. It is the school of magic to which each of the wizards of the Directorate have taken their vows. Simply put, the Vigors teach those facets of the craft that produce charity, kindness, and deeds for others. It is the only type of magic practiced by wizards.” He paused, gathering his thoughts, watching the setting sun slowly drop into the horizon before he finally spoke again.
“The other side of the craft is called the Vagaries. It is practiced only for power and greed, and the depravities of its execution know no bounds. It is said that complete mastery of the Vagaries always results in madness. During the war, the sorceresses practiced only the Vagaries, the wizards only the Vigors.” He picked at the hem of his robe. “The Vagaries are the most dangerous of all aspects of the craft—not more powerful than the Vigors, but far more destructive. And destruction was the tool needed most by the sorceresses to accomplish their goals.” A brief look of sorrow passed across the wizard’s face, and he sighed. “For you see, Tristan, it is always far more harmful to achieve one’s ends by taking, rather than by giving.” His voice sounded sad and far away.
“Did you ever know such a person, Wigg?” Tristan asked. “A true master of the Vagaries?”
The old one raised himself up a little and looked straight into the prince’s eyes. “Unfortunately, Tristan, I have,” he answered. “And it was clear that the beginnings of the Vagaries’ madness had begun to manifest themselves in its lead practitioner. She was the most purely evil person I have ever known—but she was also the most brilliant.”
Tristan found himself stymied for a moment. For as long as he could remember, he had been under the impression that endowed males were more naturally powerful than their female counterparts. Finally, he asked, “Can women therefore become as powerful as men in their use of the craft?”
“Oh, yes,” Wigg answered. “An endowed female who studied with equal intent could be just as dangerously powerful as any male, provided her blood was the quality of his. Before the war, both men and women of endowed blood were allowed to learn and practice the craft. The women called themselves sorceresses, and a collection of such sorceresses was called a coven. Males of endowed blood who practiced the craft called themselves wizards. The two names imply exactly the same thing, the only difference being gender. Most people do not realize that, because the training of women in the craft was outlawed, for better or for worse, at the end of the Sorceresses’ War.”
The wizard looked out at Tammerland. It was that wonderful time of twilight when the orange of the sun’s rays could still be seen, melting upward into the ever-darkening black of the night. The three red moons would soon be up, and the night creatures of the Hartwick Woods would begin to stir.
“What makes one wizard or sorceress more powerful than another?” Tristan asked.
“In that, it is much like anything else. First, of course, ability is determined by the quality of one’s blood. Added to this is the pupil’s intelligence, and the quality and duration of training. But the overriding variable is blood purity. The stronger the blood, the better the pupil. The better the pupil, the more powerful the resulting wizard or sorceress.”
Tristan continued to press. “And how is it, Wigg, that you and the other members of the Directorate have never died? I know of people in Tammerland who say you and the other members have not aged one bit in their entire lifetime.”
“We are protected by what are called time enchantments. But the public perception of this is misleading, Tristan. It is true that the enchantments keep us impervious to disease and old age, but time enchantments do not necessarily equate to immortality. If you and I both jumped off this cliff, at the bottom of it I would be just as dead as you. The time enchantments were developed to protect our land from those who practiced the Vagaries, who were also close to perfecting the same enchantments. Not for selfish reasons. The war seemed to be interminable, and we were losing so many wizards. If by chance we could win the war, we wanted to ensure that this sort of thing could never happen again. True, we granted ourselves seeming immortality, but in return we pledged the remainder of our lives to the Vigors only, and to ensuring Eutracian peace.”
Tristan was beginning to see the wizard in a new light, despite the fact that he had known him for almost thirty years. The old one had lived over ten times that long, and almost all of it in the service of his country.
“The various aspects of the craft are infinite, Tristan. For both the Vigors and the Vagaries. Spells, enchantments, incantations, transformations, potions, divinations, symbols—the list goes on and on. And each thing in nature has its own place in the craft. Thus, the study of the craft is infinite and, for those of us with endowed blood, irresistibly compelling.”
“Are the Vagaries still practiced?” Tristan asked, looking genuinely concerned.
“No. Its practitioners were all either killed or banished, and the volumes and scrolls containing their teachings were burned.” The need to lie to the prince sent a stabbing pain through Wigg’s heart, but in this, too, the old one had no choice. There was so much he would have liked to tell him. The prince’s situation was so unique—the first ever such case in the recorded history of Eutracia, and, as such, to be handled with the greatest of care, lest they risk the destruction of the entire kingdom. Tristan had been carefully, very carefully, watched from the moment of his birth, as had his sister. In truth Wigg knew that Tristan had good reason to feel like a specimen in some bottle, despite the fact that he was a fully grown man.
Tristan dropped his knees to the ground to sit cross-legged. For a moment he hesitated, unsure. Finally, he asked, “Wigg, may I ask you a personal question?”
The wizards eyes narrowed. “Nothing precludes you from asking, just as nothing precludes me from remaining silent.”
“Are you the most powerful of all the wizards?” The words seemed to hang in the air between them like a sudden, cold breeze.
Wigg sighed. “To answer your question, I don’t really know. I am considered to be the most powerful and learned of the Directorate, but there are other wizards, including rural wizards, within the population of Eutracia. We do not follow the progress of such wizards—the task would be too great. Besides, it is not our job. There was, however, during the war, a wizard who was as powerful as me…” His voice trailed off, and his eyes seemed far away again. He lowered his voice farther still. “As I said before, it was also believed that the mastery of the Vagaries would eventually lead the practitioner to madness. And although the Vagaries are no longer being practiced, they still exist, nonetheless.”
“I’m still not sure that I understand,” Tristan said, mulling over the wizard’s words.
Indeed, Wigg thought, looking compassionately into the prince’s dark eyes. How could you be expected even to begin to understand that which has taken the finest wizards of the realm over three centuries to unravel? Perhaps a demonstration would be the best way in which to instruct you now.
“Magic is everywhere, Tristan,” the wizard continued. “Even though it cannot be seen. In this aspect it is much like the air we breathe, constantly surrounding us yet invisible, making us blissfully unaware of its presence and usually quite unable to see it. Magic indeed has substance and shape, as does the air. But do not be misled. I’m not talking about the effects of the craft, or the result of its use. I’m speaking of the craft itself, of what it really is. There is a true, interwoven consistency to its energy and its existence, and it can be literally seen, each of the two sides, both the Vigors and the Vagaries.” He pursed his lips for a moment, finally making up his mind. “Allow me to demonstrate.”