The Blood of a Dragon

Chapter Twelve

“Well, now,” Thetheran said, “it’s not really my specialty, finding things...”

“Dumery is not athing,” Faléa said. “He’s our son.”

“Oh, I know, I know,” Thetheran assured her. “I merely meant that locative magic is outside my usual practice.”

“Your sign says you’re a mage,” Doran pointed out, “and when I brought my boy here I was told you were one of the best wizards in the Quarter. Are you telling me you can’t even find my son?”

“Oh, no, no, nothing like that,” Thetheran said hurriedly. “Merely that it’s not a spell I commonly use, so that I may not have the ingredients readily available! I’ll need to check. And I’m not sure just which spell would be best. Do you merely wish to knowwhere he is, or do you want to know his state of health? Do you want a message conveyed? Would you...” He stopped, catching himself. He didn’t want to promise anything he couldn’t deliver. The truth was that he had no idea what spells he had that might apply in this case, or which spells he could buy from the neighbors without his customers finding out about it.

“Well, we certainly want to know if he’s still alive and well!” Doran snapped.

“It isn’t going to do us any good to locate a...” Suddenly realizing that completing the sentence with the word “corpse,” as he had intended to do, might upset his wife, he let it drop and instead said, “I mean, yes, we want to know the state of his health!”

“And if there’s some way we could talk to him...” Faléa added, ignoring her husband’s blunder.

“Ah,” Thetheran said, stroking his beard. “Well, if you actually want totalk to him, that will call for a little research. Tell me, do you have any idea at all where he is? Is he still inside the city walls?”

“We don’t know,” Doran said, annoyed. “All we know is he’s gone.”

“Well, then,” Thetheran said, “I suggest that the two of you go keep yourselves busy for an hour or two while I investigate the matter, and when you come back I hope to have a spell ready for you.”

Hehoped he would, but he admitted to himself that it wasn’t very likely.

The merchant and his wife hesitated, and whispered to each other for a moment, but then they rose from the velvet chairs and made a polite departure.

The moment they were outside Thetheran slammed the door and ran for his laboratory. He snatched his personal book of spells from the shelf and began flipping through the pages, encountering one useless or inappropriate spell after another.

“Eknerwal’s Lesser Invisibility,” he muttered to himself, “Felshen’s First Hypnotic, The Polychrome Smoke, the Dismal Itch. Damn. Love spells, curses, invisibility, levitations, nothing about finding anything. The Iridescent Amusement. Fendel’s Aphrodisiac Philtre. The Lesser Spell of Invaded...”

He stopped, and turned back.

“The Lesser Spell of Invaded Dreams,” he read. “Requires fine grey dust, incense tainted with morning mist...” He nodded to himself as he read over the instructions and the lessons of his own long-ago apprenticeship came back to him.

Then he got to the detailed description of the spell’s effects and stopped, cursing.

“Thatwon’t do,” he said. He stood staring at the page for a moment, then looked up at the ceiling, thinking. “There’s something, though. This isn’t quite what I remember.”

Then it struck him. “TheLesser Spell,” he said, and he began hurriedly flipping pages again.

He found what he wanted and stopped. “Ah!” he said, tapping the page with his finger. “Here we go!” He began reading avidly.

An hour later he was waiting in his cozy front room when Faléa and Doran knocked on the door. Thetheran sent the sylph to let them in, while he stood and adjusted his robe to make the most imposing figure possible.

“I believe, Doran of Shiphaven, Faléa the Slender,” the mage declaimed as the pair entered, “that I have just the spell you need.”

Doran was suitably impressed. Having spent the intervening time buying and eating a more-than-adequate luncheon, Doran was in a much better mood than before. “Oh?” he said, politely.

Faléa had spent the entire meal worrying about whether Dumery had found anything to eat in the past day or so, and was too upset to say anything.

“Yes,” Thetheran said. “It’s known as the Greater Spell of Invaded Dreams. It will permit me to speak to your son in his dreams, and to question him regarding his present circumstances. By performing the spell in a certain way, I believe that I can put one of you-not both, however-into the dream as well, so that you, too, will be able to speak to him. Thatis what you wanted, I believe?”

Both of Dumery’s parents nodded, Faléa with rather more enthusiasm than her spouse.

“I cannot perform the spell with any chance of success until the boy is asleep, however,” Thetheran explained. “That means that I had best wait until well after dark tonight. I will also need to know the boy’s true name, if it is not Dumery of Shiphaven...”

“That’s the only name he’s got,” Doran interrupted. “Only one he ever had.”

“Then it is his true name,” Thetheran said, unperturbed. “Now, which of you will speak to him?”

Doran glanced at his wife, who immediately volunteered.

“I will need your true name, as well, then,” Thetheran said, “and it would be easiest if you were to remain here, with me, throughout, though in fact it should be possible to conduct the entire affair successfully if you are at home and asleep in your own bed.”

“I’ll stay here,” Faléa unhesitatingly replied.

Doran eyed her briefly, then looked over the mage, and decided that the risk of being cuckolded was minimal. “All right,” he said. “Is there anything else you need, wizard?”

“Not for the spell itself,” Thetheran replied, “but there is the matter of my fee...”