The Choice of Magic - Michael G. Manning Page 0,16

reason I gave you the elixir.” He sat down on the porch and stared at Will thoughtfully. “My real reason was to get you back on your feet quicker, and to illustrate a valuable lesson. The turyn in that vial was mine, as you correctly observed. If it had been yours, you would have suffered very few side effects, or even none at all. Why do you think that is?”

Glaring at him, Will answered, “Because you’re evil.”

The hermit laughed. “Guilty as charged, but that isn’t the reason. Try again.”

“You aren’t human,” Will suggested. “Or maybe you’re a half-fiend, the wicked product of the union of a demon and a human woman.”

“Better,” said the hermit. “You certainly don’t lack for imagination. Still wrong, though. At least your answer has a testable element to it.”

“Testable?”

The old man nodded. “If you could convince a half-fiend to produce the elixir of turynal for you, you could take it and see how it affected you.”

Will was dumbfounded. “But, demons aren’t real. Right?”

“Oh, they’re quite real,” said the hermit matter-of-factly. “And while I’ve never had one make the elixir for me, I did devour the essence of a demon once, which amounts to almost the same thing. It wasn’t too different from that of another human.”

“You what?” Will gaped at him.

Waving his hand, the old man went on, “That isn’t the point, boy. The important thing for you to know is that even if the elixir I gave you had come from your mother, or a saint, the effect on you would have been much the same. Try to reason out why that is.”

“I don’t believe you,” said Will abruptly.

“As if I give a shit, boy,” said the hermit dryly. “Stick to the question at hand.”

Will stared at the dirt in front of him, then scooted back to put some more distance between himself and the mess he had expelled from his stomach. He didn’t know what to make of the old man’s claim regarding demons. It couldn’t be true. He’s just trying to scare me, he decided. Glancing up, he saw that his new guardian was still waiting for an answer.

He thought about his mother’s herbs then. Each one was different from the others; they all had their own subtle properties. Even plants of the same species were different, as he had come to learn from his newfound insights. If people were the same, or rather the magic within them, would that account for the sickness he felt?

“Because they’re different?” said Will hesitantly, unsure how to explain his thoughts.

The old man’s eyes perked up, sending his bushy brows to new heights. “What’s different?”

“Their turyn, or whatever you call it. If everyone’s is different, maybe that’s what makes you feel sick when you get someone else’s…”

“Now you’re starting to think,” said the hermit. “Here’s something else to consider. Long ago, some mages would make the elixir of turynal and sell it to more skilled wizards. Even today, warlocks use it to barter with their patron spirits. If it makes the user sick when they imbibe someone else’s turyn, why do you suppose it has value to others?”

It sure isn’t the taste, thought Will sourly. Then he remembered something the old man had said a few moments before. “You said I lacked ability. Maybe someone with skill can use it without getting sick?”

The hermit smiled. “You’re not as stupid as you look. A proper wizard would never drink a vial like that in a single draught, unless it was his own. He would sip it slowly, taking time to absorb and convert its essence. Very few, and only those with great skill and experience, could manage to take an entire dose all at once like that.”

“Then why did you tell me to gulp it down?” exclaimed Will angrily.

The old man smirked. “I didn’t. I never said anything about how you should take it.”

“Well you could at least have warned me!”

“It’s better this way anyway,” said the hermit. “If you had tried to drink it slowly, you’d have wasted most of it. I doubt you could have taken a second sip.”

Standing up, Will kicked loose dirt over the products of his insulted stomach. “I don’t see how it’s better. I threw it all up.”

“How do you feel?” asked the old man innocently.

Will paused in mid-thought. He hadn’t noticed before, but his bone-weary fatigue had vanished. Even the nausea had faded into the background and seemed to be rapidly disappearing. In a word, he was better. Much better. He