The Flying Sorcerers

Purple-gray spent the next several days collecting small plants, pieces of larger plants, handfuls of mud and water and dirt. There were plenty of sprats and adults to watch him, but he took little notice of them.

A floating three-legged clicking device followed him about with its legs folded, unnoticed and untended until he needed it. Each time he took a sample of something he would mount this device on its legs and point it at the site. It seemed a harmless enough testing device, but Shoogar would grit his teeth every time it came floating by.

Shoogar went into seclusion then, determined to discover the secret of the stranger’s light-making device. When I visited him for the purpose of checking his progress, he glared angrily at me, and muttered, “Curse that single-shadowed demon!”

“Perhaps it would help if you tried to find out which god the spell draws its power from.”

Shoogar gave me another look, more scathing than the first. “Do I tell you how to carve bone? Why do you tell me magic? Don’t you think I know my own business? I have already tested this device for the presence of every god in the known pantheon and it responds to none.”

“Perhaps,” I suggested, “perhaps it is based on a different principle. Purple appears not to call on any gods at all. Could it be that…”

Then how does he work his devices?” Shoogar demanded. “By superstition?”

“I don’t know — but perhaps he draws his power from some different source. Or perhaps …”

“Lant, you are a fool! Why do you continue to prattle on about things you do not know? If you are going to try to talk to a magician about magic, you should at least try to talk intelligently.”

“But that’s why I’m asking —”

“Superstition, Lant, is harmless prattle that gets repeated so often that people start to believe it — and then it is no longer harmless. The belief of the people gives it power. Magic, on the other hand, involves a carefully constructed equation of symbols intended to control specialized forces or objects. Magic works whether one believes in it or not”

“I understand that,” I said. “And I do not think that Purple operates by superstition.”

“Nor do I,” said Shoogar. “His powers are too great.”

“But it does not appear that he operates by magic either.”

“Are you suggesting that the stranger’s devices are independent of the gods?” Shoogar’s look and tone made it clear that he felt he was talking to an imbecile.

I stiffened my tone. “Such a thing is not impossible. Wilville once confessed to me that he has often test-ridden new bicycles without bothering to bless them first. One grows careless and forgets. But nothing evil has ever happened to him.”

“Wilville and Orbur are under my protection — remember? In payment for helping to construct a flying spell.”

“Yes, I remember. I had preferred they take something tangible.”

Shoogar ignored me. “I am protecting both your sons as a matter of course, so Wilville’s occasional ride on an unblessed bicycle proves nothing. Besides, if everything else has been properly prepared, the bicycle blessing is superfluous.”

“I still say that such a thing as a device independent of the gods might be possible.”

Shoogar gave me a look. You seem very sure of yourself.”

“As a boy, I once used an unblessed fishing rod. I made it myself.”

“So?”

“So I caught a fish.”

Shoogar snorted. “It still proves nothing, Lant. If you had blessed that rod and washed your hook as you should have, you might have caught ten times as many fish. All that you proved otherwise was that you had constructed a usable fishing rod. What you needed for that experiment was a valid control — an identical fishing pole that had been blessed and washed. Then you would have seen which one could catch the most fish.

“You talk as if you have done such an experiment.”

“Not with fish, no. But with traps.”

My surprise must have shown, for he said, “As an apprentice, every new magician must prove to his own satisfaction, at least once, that there is truly great power in magic. One cannot be a magician if there is a seed of doubt in his mind. By allowing the apprentice to satisfy his curiosity, we generate faith in him. It is a simple experiment — one that anyone can construct for himself — a test that can be repeated as often as you choose. Each time the results are the same and can be verified.”

“And what happens?”

“The traps with the blessed bait will catch twice as many rabbits.”

“So? Maybe it was only because the bait is more attractive to the rabbits.”

“Of course,” said Shoogar. “That’s exactly what it is supposed to do. The whole purpose of the spell is to make the bait more attractive. These traps are simple devices, Lant. A simple device may not always need magic, but when it is used the results are easily demonstrable. Now, how many parts were there to your fishing pole?”

“Three. Stick, line and hook.”

“Right. There is little that can go wrong with it, but still the string can break, or the bait can slip off, or the hook may not catch. And this is only a simple device — a thing that does not have to be very precise. Think, Lant! What of the construction that has many moving parts? It has to have all of them in absolute working order before any of them will work. What of, say, the bicycle?”

I started to answer, but he cut me off. “Don’t interrupt. The bicycle has many moving parts, the wheels, the pulleys, the steering bar, the pedals, the axles. All of these things must be precision carved and in delicate adjustment with each other, or the device simply will not work. Now, theoretically, a perfect machine is possible … but in practice — well, when you get a machine that has to be that precise simply to function, that is when the effect of the magic becomes most important. If only one part fails — one part — then the whole machine is useless. The simple device does not need magic, so its effect is enhanced by the simplest of spells; but a complex device needs a more complex spell just to keep it working at all. There is just too much that can go wrong. Tell me, Lant, how many parts are there to a bicycle?”

I shrugged. “I have never counted. A good many, I would guess.”

Shoogar nodded. “And how may parts does the stranger s flying nest have?”

I shook my head. “I don’t know.”

“More than a bicycle?”

“Undoubtedly,” I said.

“Very perceptive of you, Lant. I feel sure that there must be at least a thousand different parts in that flying nest. From my own flying experiments I can tell you that a flying spell is a very complex device indeed. Purple-Gray’s nest must have many moving parts all of them working together in precision. The smallest error and — Poff! Nothing happens. It’s quite obvious to me that the more parts a machine has, the more opportunities it has to go wrong. Now, are you going to stand there and try to tell me that the stranger keeps all of those various parts working in absolute precision without the aid of any magic at all …?”

I shook my head. Shoogar made a very convincing case. Certainly, he had already given the whole matter much more thought than I had imagined. But, of course, that was his job as magician. It was reassuring to know that he was doing it so well.

I beamed proudly at him. “The same thing must apply to all of his other devices, right?”

Shoogar nodded, “You are beginning to see the obvious, Lant.”

“They must need so much magic that they must be reeking of spells, right?”

Shoogar nodded again.

“Then, you have already figured out the secret of the light device, Shoogar!” I exclaimed. “It is so complex that it is obvious, right?”

“Wrong. It is so simple that it is a mystery.”

“Huh —”

“The most I’ve been able to do is to take the device apart — but look at what that leaves me!” He waved his hand at a workbench. On it were only four pieces, the elements of the stranger’s light. These consisted of a hollow shell, a crystal lens, a flat plate and an interior canister, roughly the same “shape as the outer shell. Shoogar turned this flat bulging, object over and over in his hands, but he could not find an opening. It was hard and solid and we both puzzled over what it might contain. It resisted all of our attempts to open it, and Shoogar would not use force for fear of destroying the devices within.

“And you have been able to make no changes at all in its condition?” I prompted.

“Not exactly. I have made one change….”

“And what is that?”

“The light. It has failed completely and will no longer glow.”

“Oh.”

Shoogar glumly fitted the pieces together again as I watched. He activated the sliding nerve. Nothing happened. He twisted the turning knob back and forth. Still nothing. “I thought not,” he muttered. “I had hoped the spell might restore itself if given a chance to rest — but apparently I was mistaken.”

“Why don’t you take it back to Purple?” I suggested.

Shoogar whirled on me, “What?!! Do you think I am not capable enough on my own to solve this problem?”

“No, Shoogar!” I protested. “I am sure you are capable. I just thought that — uh, well, perhaps Purple has done something to cancel the original spell that you can’t know about. Perhaps he has insulted some god.”

Shoogar considered this. “You could be right … you’re sure you’re not doubting my ability as a magician?” He peered at me.

Hastily, I reassured him, “Shoogar, I have no doubts about the level of your knowledge.”

This seemed to placate him, “Good. Then we can pay a visit to Purple and find out why the device doesn’t work.”